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The Eagle’s Attack 


Page ( 



MARTIN CRUSOE 

A Boy’s Adventure on 
Wizard Island 


BY 


T. C. BRIDGES 

<J 


ILLUSTRATED BY 

C. HENRY EVISON 




NEW YORK 

HARCOURT, BRACE AND HOWE 
1920 




COPYRIGHT, 1920 , BY 
HARCOURT, BRACE AND HOWE, INC. 




V 


THE QUINN ft BODEN COMPANY 
RAHWAY, N J. 


21 1920 

©CI.A597469 

%. / 


I 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

I 

The Mysterious Messages . 






PAGE 

1 

II 

The Great Adventure Begins 






11 

III 

The Mysterious Island 






20 

IV 

The Painted Hall 






29 

V 

The Golden Giants 






40 

VI 

In the Hands of the Enemy 






48 

VII 

The Horror of the Heights 



• 



59 

VIII 

Battle Royal .... 



• 



68 

IX 

Bread and Salt . . . « 



• 



78 

X 

The Lake of Fire . 



• 



88 

XI 

Akon’s Decision 



• 



98 

XII 

The Priest’s Plan 



• 



108 

XIII 

The Chance Passes 



• 



118 

XIV 

Ordeal by Fire 



• 



127 

XV 

The Powder Plot . 



• 



138 

XVI 

Martin Plays a Lone Hand 



• 



148 

XVII 

The Place of Death . 



• 



157 

XVIII 

The Wisdom of the East . 



• 



167 

XIX 

The Second Bomb . 



• 



177 

XX 

Martin Plays the Game . 



• 



186 

XXI 

A Forced Landing 



• 



196 

XXII 

A Battle of Giants 



• 



206 

XXIII 

Tiie Wave 



• 



214 

XXIV 

A Desperate Venture . 



• 



219 

XXV 

A Night of Terror 



• 



226 

XXVI 

The Escape from the Cave 



• 



236 

XXVII 

In the Nick of Time . 



• 



246 

XXVIII 

Mobbed 



• 



256 

XXIX 

The Rescue .... 



• 



265 

XXX 

In the Heart of the Glades 



• 



273 

XXXI 

The Confession 






279 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 

The Eagle’s Attack Frontispiece ' 

For a Moment He Held Martin in Both Hands . . . 50 ^ 

Martin Knew at Once That This Was a Priest of the Sun 108°^ 

The Rebel Leader Pitched Forward and Rolled Heavily 
Down the Steps 184 

The Sight Was at Once Splendid and Terrible . . . 228' 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


CHAPTER I 

THE MYSTERIOUS MESSAGES 

With the telephones of his wireless fixed over 
his ears, a pencil in his hand, and a writing-pad 
before him, Martin Yaile sat listening to the 
signals that came through. 

Some minutes passed, and Martin, tapping idly 
on the paper with his pencil, seemed little inter- 
ested in the sounds. Then suddenly his attitude 
changed, his back straightened, and a look of 
eager interest lit his keen gray eyes. 

His pencil began to work, and he rapidly jotted 
down a series of figures and letters on the paper. 

Then he stopped writing and sat waiting, but 
nothing more came, and, glancing at his watch, he 
noted the time, slipped off the receiver, and ran 
his fingers through his close, curly hair. 

The door of the big room opened, and a boy 
came quickly in, a boy about Martin’s age, but as 
dark and slight as Martin was tall and fair. 


1 


2 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


“That you, Basil ?” said Martin quickly. “I’m 
glad you’ve come.” 

Basil Loring gave the other a quick glance. 

‘ ‘ What ’s the matter, old man I ” he asked lightly. 
“Why this frown on your marble brow? What 
horrible news have you been absorbing out of 
space? ” 

“Nothing horrible, Basil, but something most 
unthinkably baffling. I’ve just had the sixth mes- 
sage from the unknown sender.” 

“The sixth message?” repeated Basil, looking 
puzzled. “What in the name of sense are you 
talking about?” 

“Oh, I forgot. You’ve not been here for a 
week, and don’t know anything about it. Well, 
every night for six nights past I have had a mes- 
sage from this unknown station. It gives the lati- 
tude and longitude, and says ‘Help! Come to 
me ! 9 99 

“Sounds like an S.O.S., Martin. Is it a ship in 
trouble?” 

“Bless you, no. Nothing of the sort. This is 
from a much more powerful installation than any 
ship has. Besides, it isn’t a ship. The tuning is 
different.” 

‘ ‘ That ’s Greek to me, ’ ’ said Basil. 4 ‘ Explain. ’ ’ 

“Well, you know we use different length 


THE MYSTERIOUS MESSAGES 


3 


waves for wireless work, and skips use compara- 
tively short waves. By adjusting my apparatus, I 
can cut those out completely, so that all I catch 
is from the giant land stations such as the Eiffel 
Tower or Washington. Their wave-lengths are 
much greater, and cannot be heard with the ordi- 
nary adjustment. The other night, as an experi- 
ment, I tried an even wider adjustment, and then 
came this mysterious message, or, rather, the 
duplicate of it; and each night since, just at the 
^ame hour, it has come again. As I told you, this 
is the sixth.” 

Basil stared. “I understand about the waves,” 
he said. “But surely, Martin, if this is a big sta- 
tion that you are hearing from, it’s easy enough 
to find where it is 1 All the big stations are 
known, aren’t they?” 

‘ 4 This one isn ’t, ’ ’ Martin answered. ‘ 1 1 can tell 
you this much: if the sender states his position 
correctly, it’s right in the middle of the sea.” 

This time Basil was startled. 

‘ 4 If that ’s the case, it must be from a ship. And 
yet you say that it’s from a big installation.” 

Suddenly his face cleared. “Tell you what, 
Martin, it’s someone having a joke with you — 
some fellow in one of the other big stations play- 
ing a game. ’ ’ 


4 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


Martin shook his head decidedly. 

4 4 It’s not that, Basil. The message does come 
from the spot it is supposed to come from, or 
from that neighborhood. You see, nowadays, we 
are able to tell pretty accurately the direction of 
wireless signals. I have made experiments dur- 
ing the past week, and, as far as I can gather, the 
station is exactly where the sender says it is.” 

4 4 Then there must be an island there, ’ ’ said 
Basil. 

4 4 If there is, it is not on my map, and, mind 
you, I have looked up the best government 
charts.” , 

Basil shook his head helplessly. 

“It’s beyond me, Martin,” he said. 4 4 Show me 
the spot on the map.” 

Martin took a chart out of a drawer and un- 
rolled it. It represented that vast tract of the 
North Atlantic Ocean between the Canary Islands 
and the Bermudas, between twenty and thirty de- 
grees north. Near the center of this, but a little 
to the west, Martin had made a tiny cross in 
pencil. 

4 4 There’s the spot,” he said. 

Basil looked at it for some moments. 4 4 Why,” 
he said slowly, 4 4 that’s in the Sargasso Sea.” 

Martin nodded. 


THE MYSTERIOUS MESSAGES 


5 


“Exactly. It is right in the center of that tre- 
mendous plain of weed which is drifted by circling 
currents into that dead water, and covers more 
than a million square miles. That is where the 
mysterious island must be, and that is the spot 
from which these queerly-tuned messages must be 
reaching me.” 

Basil stared first at the map and then at 
Martin. 

“If the island is not charted, the only reason 
can be that the weed has prevented ships from 
getting to it,” he said. “And if ships can’t get to 
it, how in the name of sense has this fellow got 
there ? And if he has got there, how did he ever 
get his wireless there, or put it up?” 

“Just the questions I have been asking myself, 
Basil, and just the questions I mean to solve be- 
fore I am very much older. I hope to be on that 
island within a month. ’ ’ 

6 ‘ You ’re going there ? ’ 9 cried Basil. ‘ ‘ But how ? 
Of course, you have the yacht, but she can’t travel 
through the weed any more than any other ship.” 

‘ ‘ True, my boy. But if one can’t travel through 
the weed the other way is to travel over it . 9 9 

Basil’s eyes shone. 

“A ’plane!” he said breathlessly. \ 

“I shall take the ‘Bat,’ Basil. She will do the 


6 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


trick if anything will. A flying boat ought to be 
the very thing for the Sargasso.” 

Basil drew a long breath. 

“Bully !” he said. “Oh, Martin, I wish I could 
come with you!” 

“I wish you could, Basil,” replied Martin 
gravely; “but I’m afraid it’s out of the question. 
You’ve got to go back for your last term at 
‘prep.’ school. In any case, your father would 
not hear of it.” 

“What about yours!” questioned Basil, 
quickly. 

“I am wiring him tomorrow,” Martin an- 
swered. 

Twenty-four hours later Martin stood on the 
wide-stretching lawn. The stately house lay be- 
hind him ; in front the Atlantic sparkled under the 
spring sun, and in the cove below lay the ‘Flying 
Fox,’ a magnificent ocean-going craft of twelve 
hundred tons, in which Martin and his father had 
traveled thousands of miles across the seas of all 
the world. Martin’s father was a very rich man, 
whose business interests lay in many countries. 

The boy’s eyes were on the drive. He was ex- 
pecting the telegraph boy, with the answer to the 
message he had sent the previous day to his 
father, who was in Florida attending to one of 


THE MYSTERIOUS MESSAGES 7 

the great land settlement projects he and his 
partner, Morton Willard, had started there. 

A boy on a bicycle came up the distant drive, 
and Martin walked quickly down the slope to meet 
him. 

‘ 4 Telegram for you, sir,” said the lad. 

‘ ‘ Thanks, ’ 7 answered Martin with a smile. 

“Dad is prompt,” he said. “I hardly hoped to 
hear today.” 

He tore the envelope open, unfolded the flimsy 
sheet, and read the message. 

The color faded from his face; his eyes went 
blank; he staggered and fell on the grassy bank. 
The slip fell from his shaking fingers. 

Then, with a big effort, he pulled himself to- 
gether, and, picking up the telegram, forced him- 
self to read it again. This was the message : 

“Deeply regret to inform you your father died 
suddenly today result of heart failure. Am mak- 
ing all arrangements for funeral and writing by 
this mail. Willard, Seminole Hotel, Lacoochee, 
Florida.” 

“Dead! My father dead!” groaned poor 
Martin. 

The shock was terrible, for Martin’s mother had 
died when he was only a baby, and he and his 
father had been the greatest chums imaginable. 


8 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


And now his father had died, hundreds of miles 
from home, without a last word ! 

For many minutes Martin sat there, staring 
blankly in front of him, but with his mind’s eyes 
fixed on his father’s face as he had last seen him, 
barely a month before. When at last he rose and 
went to the house he looked five years older than 
when he had left it. 

How the next days passed Martin hardly knew. 
Everyone was as kind as could be, but he was in a 
dazed state and hardly knew what was happening 
around him. 

What roused him at last was a visit from the 
family lawyer, Mr. Vincent Meldrum. He arrived 
with a bag full of papers and a very grave face. 
They met in the library, an oak-paneled room full 
of Mr. Harrington Vaile’s books. 

‘ ‘ Martin, ’ ’ began Mr. Meldrum, ‘ 1 1 am going to 
tell you at once that I have bad news for you. ’ ’ 

“It can’t be any worse than I have had al- 
ready,” said poor Martin. “You needn’t be 
afraid to tell me. ’ ’ 

The lawyer looked at Martin and sighed. 

“Martin,” he said, “I have known you from a 
child, and I believe you have plenty of pluck. You 
will need it all, I fear. Having said that, I will 
not keep you in suspense. The big land scheme 


THE MYSTERIOUS MESSAGES 9 

at Cleansand Bay has come to utter smash and 
the papers are saying it was a swindle from the 
beginning.” 

Martin leaped to his feet. 

“ A swindle! Who accuses my father of hav- 
ing anything to do with a swindle f ” 

‘ 1 Steady, Martin — steady! ” begged the lawyer. 
“You and I know better, but others do not. I 
'fear there is no doubt about the swindle; but your 
father did not know this. He took Mr. Willard’s 
word that the scheme was sound. Willard ran 
the whole thing, and, as you will remember, kept 
your father away from Florida on one excuse 
or another until quite lately.” . 

Again Martin sprang to his feet. 

' “Then he murdered my father!” he cried 
fiercely. 

Mr. Meldrum raised his hand. 

“You must not make rash accusations, Martin,” 
he said gravely. ‘ ‘ There is no suspicion, let alone 
proof, that Mr. Willard did anything of the kind : 
in any case your father’s heart was said to be 
weak.” 

“Then it was the shock that killed him,” de- 
clared Martin; “the shock of finding that he was 
mixed up in a swindle.” 

“That is possible,” replied the lawyer. “Now 


10 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


listen, Martin. This is a bad business. The loss 
to the investors runs into an enormous sum. I 
fear that all your father’s property will be seized 
to pay the debt. There is this much comfort. 
The courts cannot touch the money you have 
under your mother’s will, so you will have a small 
but sufficient income to ” 

Martin broke in with a quick question. 

“Is my father’s money enough to satisfy the 
creditors?” 

“I doubt it, Martin.” 

4 1 Then you will take every penny, Mr. Meldrum 
—every penny, do you hear? Sell the house, the 
yacht — everything. Do you think I would let any- 
one say that my dad had swindled them? 


CHAPTER II 


THE GREAT ADVENTURE BEGINS 

“You’re going to the island, Martin !” 

“I’m going, Basil.” 

“But — but what does old Meldrum say!” 

“He doesn’t know, Basil. He thinks I am going 
to Florida. So I am, for the matter of that, but 
I mean to visit the island first. You see, it all fits 
in perfectly. The people who have bought the 
Flying Fox want her delivered at Havana. So 
I may just as well go in her as not. And the Bat 
is my own. I paid for her out of my own allow- 
ance, and I feel justified in keeping her. I have 
told Captain Anson, of the Flying Fox, just what 
I want to do, and he has agreed. You are the only 
other person who knows about it.” 

Basil looked worried. 

“I almost wish you hadn’t told me. Suppose 
you come to grief!” 

“If I do there’s no one to miss me except you, 
old friend,” said Martin, gently. “But don’t be 
upset. There’s no reason why I should come to 
harm. The island is not more than two hundred 


11 


12 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


and fifty miles from the edge of the weed, and the 
‘Bat’ will cover that distance in two hours.” 

“Yes ; hut suppose you get there and can’t get 
away again !” 

“I don’t see how that can be, unless I smash 
up the Bat, and if I do there’s always the wire- 
less with which I can call for help.” 

“I’d forgotten the wireless,” said Basil. 
“Yes, you can do that.” 

He paused. 

“But I say, Martin,” he went on, rather doubt- 
fully. “I thought your idea was to get square 
with Willard!” 

Martin’s face hardened. 

“That is exactly what I do mean to do,” he 
said sternly. “I shall never rest until he is pun- 
ished — until all those poor people who have lost 
their money through him have been repaid to the 
last penny. But don’t you see that this delay may 
help! At present Willard is on his guard. He 
will be looking out for me, and is sure to know 
that I am starting for Florida. If I disappear 
’on the way he will think the danger is over. He 
won’t worry. Then, when he has forgotten, I shall 
swoop down on him.” 

Martin’s eyes were shining. Basil stared at 
him in wonder. 


THE GREAT ADVENTURE BEGINS 13 

“ You ’ll get him all right, I feel sure of that,” 
he declared. “ Besides, I daresay you’ll make a 
fortune on the island. A man who has a great 
wireless like that must be awfully rich.” 

“I had thought of that,” said Martin. “And 
I shall want money to tackle this swindler Willard. 
The messages make it quite plain that someone 
is wanted there, on the island, and if whoever is 
there will pay for my help, why, I sha’n’t refuse 
the money. And now, good-by, Basil. Keep a 
still tongue, and I will promise you shall hear 
from me as soon as possible.” 

“Good-by, Martin!” said Basil, in a voice not 
very steady. “And just remember, if you are in 
a hole, I’ll do anything on earth that I can!” 

“I know you will,” Martin answered, as he 
wrung his friend’s hand. “Good-by again. I go 
aboard to-night, and we sail first thing in the 
morning.” 

Basil left, and Martin finished his packing. Two 
hours later he went aboard the yacht. At five next 
morning he was on deck. He stood alone in the 
stern, taking his last look at the beautiful old 
house with its wide, smooth lawns, and the tall 
trees behind with the rooks cawing in the branches. 

The yacht swung southward around a tall head- 
land, cutting off: the view. 


14 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


The Flying Fox traveling at a steady seventeen 
knots ran rapidly into the tropics and a week later 
lay rolling idly on the silken swells of mid- 
Atlantic. It was a heavenly day, the warm air 
soaked with snn. 

To the north the sea lay open to the farthest 
horizon, but the view to the south was bounded 
by a dark line which at first sight resembled a low- 
lying shoal, but which was actually the edge of the 
monstrous mass of weed covering the Sargasso 
Sea. 

Alongside the yacht, attached to a long spar 
which projected well beyond her side, lay Martin 
Vailed big flying boat, the Bat, and on the deck 
of the ship Martin himself, in the thick overalls 
of a pilot, stood exchanging a last few words with 
bluff old Captain Anson. 

4 4 This is for Mr. Meldrum, captain,’ ’ said Mar- 
tin, handing him a letter. “But mind, I don’t 
want him to have it until you get home again. 
Long before then you will have heard from 
me. 

“I hope so, I’m sure, Martin,” replied the cap- 
tain, who was frowning uncomfortably. 

“Oh, you’ll hear all right,” declared Martin 
with a smile. “I have told you there is wireless 
on the island.” 


THE GREAT ADVENTURE BEGINS 15 

“Ay, if there is an island at all,” grumbled the 
skipper. 

“ There must be an island, or there wouldn’t be 
wireless,’ ’ insisted Martin. 

“And suppose there is an island?” burst out 
the captain. “ And suppose you reach it, what are 
you going to do when you get there? How do 
you know this fellow that has sent the message 
will let you get away again? Suppose you tumble 
into trouble, how are we going to help you? Just 
remember this is as close as any ship can get to 
this unknown land. Let me tell you, Martin, if 
your good father was still alive he’d never 
have let you go off on a wild-goose chase like 
this.” 

“But he is not alive,” said Martin, sadly. 
“And even if he were I don’t think he would 
forbid me, captain. Remember this, my only ob- 
jects in life are to clear his memory and to pun- 
ish this man Willard. As I have told you already, 
I must have money for both these purposes. I 
firmly believe that what I am going to do will be 
my quickest and best way to make the necessary 
money. And, quite apart from all that, the man 
on the island wants help, and I feel that it’s up to 
me to bring it. Now, don’t try to discourage me,” 
he went on quietly. “My mind is made up. Let 


16 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


me feel that I have your good wishes, captain. 
I’m sure I shall need them.” 

“Certainly you have them, my lad,” said the 
captain warmly, 4 1 and the good wishes of all 
aboard. Well, I’ll say no more, except to wish you 
the best of luck. I hope you’ll come out of it 
safely, with all the cash you want, and I for one 
will be uncommon glad to see you safe back 
again.” 

The two shook hands, then Martin went over the 
side and took his seat in the slim hull of the flying 
boat. The men above cast off, Martin pressed the 
button of the self-starter, the engines roared, and 
the Bat shot away from the side of the yacht. 
Sweeping up the side of one of the long, slow 
swells, she reached the smooth top, and, taking off 
like a sea-bird, rose bodily into the air. 

Martin kept driving up and up, and as the needle 
of his barograph sank so did the mercury in the 
tube of the thermometer beside it. Above the in- 
struments was his chart with the mark showing 
the exact position of the unknown island. He 
steered by compass, and kept the bows of his ma- 
chine pointed almost precisely south. 

Martin was a skilled pilot. He had been mad on 
aircraft even before he first went to school ; and 
his father, realizing this, had started his training 


THE GREAT ADVENTURE BEGINS 17 

when he was only ten years old. His wealth had 
inade it easy for him to give the boy the best 
teachers, and at seventeen. Martin was not only a 
first-class pilot and a certificated wireless operator, 
but he had a wider knowledge of general science, 
of electricity and of chemistry, than most men of 
double his age. 

Having made sure that all was running right, 
Martin settled himself comfortably in his seat. 
Once in the air, a ’plane is far easier to handle 
than a motor-car. He was able to take it easy 
and to look about him. 

Glancing downwards, he saw that he was al- 
ready far from the open sea. Beneath him spread 
the brown mat of weed, stretching mile after mile 
in tangled masses. 

Yet it was not all weed, for it was broken by 
lagoons of blue water. And, even at the height 
at which he sailed, he could see that these lagoons 
were full of life; the tropic sea seemed clear as 
blue glass, and he could see, far down in the 
depths, strange forms gliding at great speed. 
Once he noticed a huge whale, looking as if carved 
out of black rubber, in the act of broaching. In 
another pool he caught a glimpse of a monstrous 
tangle of twisted antennae, which he realized, with 
a shudder, must be one of the tremendous cuttles 


18 MARTIN CRUSOE 

which, are known to infest the tideless depths of 
the Sargasso. 

Then he saw a ship. A sailing ship of large 
size she must have been, but her masts had gone 
overboard, leaving only the stumps; the cordage 
had rotted away, and she lay mouldering, lifeless, 
waiting until slow decay should cause her to sink 
into the hidden depths under the tangle which sur- 
rounded her. 

He looked back. Very far to the north lay the 
blue line of open sea, and a tiny trail of smoke 
told where the Flying Fox steamed onwards to 
her destination. Martin shivered. After all, 
he was only seventeen, and he felt terribly 
alone. 

This feeling soon passed. The interest of the 
scene enthralled him. For now he saw more ships, 
and he noticed that, the farther he got into the 
heart of the ocean jungle, the more ancient the 
type of vessel that lay within its festering tangles. 
Here was a galleon with a high poop-castle and 
quaintly curved bow, and a mile away a strange- 
looking ship which was like a picture he had seen 
of the Great Harry, a famous war vessel of the 
sixteenth century. It seemed clear that either the 
weed area had been steadily increasing during the 
centuries or that some hidden current sucked the 


THE MYSTERIOUS ISLAND 


19 


trapped ships deeper and deeper into the heart of 
the weed sea. 

An hour had passed. It had seemed like five 
minutes. But he did not yet begin to strain his 
eyes for sight of the island, for he knew that he 
had still fully two hundred miles to go. And even 
the towering peak of Teneriffe is not visible more 
than a hundred miles out to sea. 

Now he passed across a wide belt of open water 
which fairly teemed with marine life. Here was 
a school of cachalots, led by an old bull that must, 
Martin thought, he over a hundred feet in length. 
It came to him that this was where the whales 
had sought refuge from man’s age-long per- 
secution. 

Another hour. Still the breeze held, still the sky 
was unsullied by a single cloud, and still his en- 
gines thundered in perfect rhythm. 

Martin began to glance ahead. His heart was 
beating rapidly. At any minute he might sight 
the goal of his adventurous journey. 

What was that? Was it a white cloud, or was 
it the gleam of a snow-capped peak hung high 
against the southern sky? Five minutes more, and 
Martin, half choked with excitement, knew that 
it was indeed a mountain. The island was no 
dream. 


CHAPTER III 


THE MYSTERIOUS ISLAND 

Fifty minutes. later, and the Bat was shooting like 
a meteor towards a vast dark mass of land sur- 
rounded by a wide belt of shining sea. Martin 
was near enough to see plainly the enormous cliffs 
and frowning precipices which bounded it. 

The island was about twenty miles long and 
nearly as wide. In the centre rose a mountain 
with twin peaks white with snow, and from one of 
which a thin coil of smoke drifting lazily across 
the blue proclaimed it to be a volcano not yet 
extinct. 

Here and there were patches of vivid green, but 
whether forest or bush, or merely grass land he 
was not yet near enough to see. To the west, so 
far away as to be merely a blur on the horizon, 
was what appeared to be another island. 

As Martin drew nearer he was more and more 
impressed by the savage grandeur of the scenery. 
This was no coral island, but a great volcanic mass, 
clearly a survival of some continent long since 
whelmed in the depths of the sea. 

20 


THE MYSTERIOUS ISLAND 


21 


He stared hard, but could see no sign of life 
upon the land. The only smoke was the faint curl 
from the tall peak. There was no sign of house 
or building nor, as far as he could see, of any 
cultivated land. 

The next thing that struck him — and struck him 
very unpleasantly — was that there did not seem 
to be any place to make a landing. There was 
the sea, of course, but if he alighted on the sea 
he was faced with those enormous cliffs, up which 
there appeared to be no way of climbing. There 
was not a yard of beach anywhere. Even the 
deepest inlets seemed to be mere fiords faced with 
grim precipices. 

Rising again, he circled higher, the roar of his 
engine coming back in rattling echoes from the 
wilderness of crags below. The higher he rose 
the less he liked the look of things. It seemed 
certain that he must either land upon the sea, or 
else turn and fly back to where he had come from. 

Martin was one of those lucky people whose 
brains always work most quickly in an emergency, 
and like a flash it came to him that, even if he 
could not see the nameless inhabitant of this mys- 
terious island, it was probable that the other was 
aware of his approach. He remembered his 
wireless. 


22 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


While it is still rare for any ’plane to carry a 
wireless sending installation, all the larger types 
of aircraft are fitted with receiving apparatus. It 
was the work of a moment to clap the telephones 
to ears and release the wire. 

Instantly came the whistling notes in sequence, 
and presently he was reading out a message re- 
peated time and time again: 

“Pass twin peak to north. Land on lake 
beyond!” 

Instantly obeying the order, he opened his 
throttle to its widest and went rushing round the 
shoulder of the northern peak. He gave it a wide 
berth. As it was, the hot air from below, mingling 
with the cold breath from the snow-capped heights, 
made wild eddies which swung his big ’plane 
giddily. But the giant power of his engines 
carried him safely through this peril and, sure 
enough, beyond and beneath lay the lake that the 
message had told of. 

It was a mountain tarn, perhaps three miles 
long and a mile wide, and rimmed with precipices 
looking every bit as savage and inaccessible as the 
sea-cliffs themselves. 

Yet Martin did not hesitate. He had every con- 
fidence in the mysterious guidance which had 
brought him so far, and, besides, he had no choice 


THE MYSTERIOUS ISLAND 23 

in the matter. Cutting out his engines, he glided 
down in a long, silent volplane, to land, light as 
a homing sea-bird, upon the dark surface of the 
lonely lake. 

He had now been flying for more than four 
hours, and it was a relief to his tired nerves to 
release the controls and lie back a moment and 
look around him. The lake, as he had observed 
already, was long and narrow. It was evidently 
of enormous depth, and, from the black basalt 
cliffs which bordered it, he gathered that its bed 
must be the crater of an old fissure eruption. 

Martin was not left long to consider his sur- 
roundings. All of a sudden the quick beat of a 
motor engine reached his ears, and, looking behind 
him, he saw a small launch shooting towards him 
at great speed. Where it came from he had not 
the slightest idea, for so far he had seen no pos- 
sible landing-place. Yet there it was, and in the 
stem sat a man who steered his smart craft 
straight towards the flying boat. 

Martin’s heart throbbed with excitement. Here 
was the stranger who had called to him across all 
those thousands of miles of ocean. 

Soon the launch was near enough for Martin 
to see the face and figure of the solitary steersman. 
The first thing of which Martin was conscious wac 


24 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


that the stranger was a man of great height and 
magnificent physique, the second that he was old 
beyond belief. 

His hair, still thick, was white as the ice cap 
of the peak above, and so were his beard and 
mustache. The skin of his face was brown as 
parchment and seamed with a million wrinkles, 
and his cheekbones stood out prominent like those 
of a mummy. Yet his eyes were dark and piercing 
and there was still an air of power and strength 
about him, which was intensely impressive. 
Martin stared at him as though fascinated. He 
felt himself in the presence of an unusual 
personality. 

The launch came alongside, and Martin found 
himself waiting breathlessly for the other to speak. 

He had not long to wait. The white-haired 
giant raised his soft hat courteously. 

“ Welcome to Lost Island ,’ ’ he said in a deep 
voice. “My name is Julius Distin, and I wish to 
assure you that I am very grateful to you for 
coming to my help.” 

“I am Martin Vaile,” Martin answered simply. 
“I consider myself very lucky to have been the 
one to pick up your message.” 

Julius Distin looked at Martin thoughtfully. 

“You took it yourself?” he questioned quietly. 


THE MYSTERIOUS ISLAND 


25 


“Yes,” replied Martin. “I was trying some 
extra wave lengths, and I just chanced on your 
signals.” 

Distin nodded. “The true spirit,” he said. 
“You are young to have it. You are young, too, 
to have made such a flight unaided. So that is an 
aeroplane? I have never seen one.” 

Martin, gasped. He could not say a word. The 
idea that this wonderful old man had never so 
much as set eyes upon an aeroplane struck him 
as the most amazing thing he had ever heard. 

Distin smiled. “Yes, I have no doubt you are 
surprised. But it is nineteen years since I last 
visited the outer world. Still, the shape is familiar 
to me. I know of all the latest experiments, from 
the Wrights onwards.” 

“By your wireless, sir?” 

“No, I have books.” 

Again Martin could only stare, and again the 
old man smiled. It was a pleasing smile, Martin 
thought. 

“Wait a while,” went on Distin. “I will tell 
you all about these things a little later on. But 
first we must get in. We have sharp storms here 
sometimes, and it would never do to risk this 
beautiful machine of yours. Give me your tow- 
rope.” 


26 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


“I can taxi in,” said Martin. 

“No, yon must not waste yonr gasoline. I can 
tow you easily.” 

He took the rope, made it fast, restarted his 
engine, and turned back. As they neared the cliff 
on the north side of the lake, Martin saw a great 
rift open, a sort of fiord only a few yards wide, but 
very deep. The towering cliffs nearly met over- 
head. They passed straight down it, and as they 
went it grew narrower, until at last they were 
moving in deep gloom under an arch of rock re- 
sembling the aisle of a giant cathedral. 

Distin stopped the launch. 

“Here we are,” he said; and Martin realized 
that they were floating in deep water at the foot 
of a low quay of rock. The old man rose to his 
feet and stepped out. There was the click of a 
switch, and Martin blinked in the dazzle of huge 
arc-lamps which shed a glare of white light over 
a monstrous staircase hewn in the living rock and 
stretching away up into the heart of the moun- 
tain. 

Before Martin could recover from his astonish- 
ment, Distin stepped to one side and pulled over 
a lever. There came a sound like the fireproof 
curtain dropping in a theatre, and Martin saw a 
real curtain of metal bars descending behind them 


THE MYSTERIOUS ISLAND 


27 


from the roof of the cave. It dropped to the water 
and below it. 

Martin turned amazed eyes upon his guide. 

“W-hat ” he began. 

“We have our enemies,’ ’ said the old man, 
gravely. “It is as well to be on the safe side.” 

Martin stared at his companion. 

4 ‘ Then you are not alone on the island, ’ ’ he said 
quickly. ‘ i There are natives ? ’ * 

Professor Distin smiled. 

“I am quite alone except for my servant Scipio 
and yourself,” he answered. “The enemies I 
speak of come from that other island which you 
must have seen from your plane.” 

“The one to the west?” 

“Yes. It is called Lemuria; it is much larger 
than this, and has a good many people upon 
it.” 

“Who are they?” inquired Martin eagerly. 
“Caribs?” 

“Oh, no! A much older race. To the best of 
my belief they are the survivors of the ancient 
Atlanteans, but they are not of pure blood. There 
is a Norse strain in them. I discovered this island 
from an old Norse, chart.” 

“A Norse chart?” repeated Martin, in as- 
tonishment. 


28 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


“Yes; but, Mr. Vaile, I must not keep you 
standing here. We have very much to talk over, 
you and I, and I am sure you are tired and 
hungry. Come with me, and over supper I will 
tell you my story and hear yours . 1 ’ 


CHAPTER IV 


THE PAINTED HALL 

He led the way up the broad stone stairs. As 
Martin followed he was struck by the magnificent 
proportions of the great flight of stone steps, and 
the splendid arch of the rock overhead. It was 
clear that the whole was the work of man’s hands. 
As for its age, that was incalculable. The steps 
were worn smooth as glass by the passage of 
thousands upon thousands of bare feet. 

The staircase swung in a grand curve, and, 
reaching the top, Martin suddenly found himself 
in a vast pillared hall, hewn, like the stairs, in the 
living rock, and flooded with electric light. The 
walls the pillars, the roof itself, were covered 
with an intricate mass of carvings representing 
birds, beasts and reptiles, many of them unknown 
to Martin. And these all glowed in wonderful 
colors as brilliant, apparently, as the day they 
were laid on. 

Martin was struck dumb. He could do nothing 
but stand stock still and stare around him. 

‘ ‘ Very wonderful, is it not!” said the old Pro- 


29 


30 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


fessor. “The people from the Smithsonian Mu- 
seum would give something to see this. See, 
here is the ichthyosaurus, the great fish lizard, 
and here is a dinosaur. Up on the roof above 
us are a flight of pterodactyls, the terrible flying 
lizard of the ancient days. You will find here 
representations of most of those giant animals 
which we know only from the fossilized bones we 
dig up; and here is proof positive that man — 
highly civilized man — lived cheek by jowl with all 
these marvellous beasts of earth’s earlier days.” 

“It is wonderful, said Martin, in a whisper, 
“almost too wonderful.” 

“I shall show you even more wonderful things 
than this tomorrow,” replied the Professor, in his 
quiet way. “But we do not live among these 
monsters, I am glad to say. Follow me.” 

Passing through the vast pillared hall, he took 
Martin through a curtain doorway into another 
cave. This was a spacious rock chamber with 
great windows facing on the lake — windows which 
were set with panes of plate glass, through which 
the afternoon sun shone pleasantly. 

Martin was getting used to marvels. Yet the 
contrast between this room and the sculptured ex- 
travagance of the pillared hall was as startling as 
anything he had yet seen. White matting cov- 


THE PAINTED HALL 


31 


ered the floor, and the walls were hung with 
soft draperies. Here were big cane chairs, photo- 
graphs, pictures, English furniture and quantities 
of books. 

On the far side was a door leading into a second 
room furnished as a bedroom, and beyond were 
still more rooms. 

“This was a rock gallery,” explained Professor 
Distin. “We partitioned it oft into rooms. Yours 
is the third; and when you are ready, come back 
to the sitting-room for supper.” 

Martin found sweet-smelling soap, warm water 
and clean towels. It was like his bedroom at home. 
When he came back a table was set, and a man 
of color in neat drill was just bringing a hot 
dish. 

“Mr. Vaile,” said the Professor, “this is Scipio 
Mack, the one survivor of those who came with 
me to Lost Island.” 

Scipio laid down his dishes. 

“I’se mighty glad to see you, Marse Vaile,” 
he said, showing his white teeth in a cheery grin. 
“As I done told de marster, he and me was getting 
plumb tired of one anoder’s company. We’re 
right pleased to welcome you, sah.” 

“Thank you very much, Scipio,” replied Martin 
cordially. 


3‘J MARTIN CRUSOE 

He liked the look of the man as much as the 
master, and for the first time since the sudden 
death of his father began to feel a little less lonely 
and unhappy. 

He soon found that the negro was a wonderful 
cook. Supper began with excellent grilled fish. 
It was pompano, the Professor explained. With 
it was served cassava, sweet potatoes and maize 
bread. Then came a salad made of avocado pears, 
the most delicious thing of the kind that Martin 
had ever tasted. Dessert was stewed guavas, cus- 
tard apples, huge Bahia oranges and luscious 
mangosteens. They finished up with a cup of fra- 
grant black coffee. 

The Professor watched Martin eat, and smiled 
at his good appetite. 

“Yes,” he said. “We grow all this fruit our- 
selves. You shall see our garden to-morrow. It 
is in a hollow on the mountain side. I can get 
oranges into full bearing in three years.” 

Martin stared. 

“How on earth do you do that, sir?” 

1 1 Electricity, ’ y replied the Professor quietly. 1 ‘ I 
have made a study of electro-culture. Indeed, we 
do everything by electricity, including our 
cooking.” 

“Where do you get your power?” 


THE PAINTED HALL 


33 


“ Water — a glacier stream, fed by the snows 
above. It works my wireless also. ’ ’ 

i ‘ Then you have turbines f ” said Martin, as he 
sipped his coffee. 

“Oh, yes! We brought those with us.” 

“But how ” began Martin, in fresh 

amazement. 

“Quite simple, my boy. We came here in a 
submarine. There were two of us. Dr. Olaf 
Krieger, a Danish man of science, and myself were 
anxious to carry out certain experiments, and we 
wished to be quite undisturbed. Krieger it was 
who happened on the old Norse chart of which I 
have spoken. It seems clear that, in those days, 
the currents in the Atlantic were different, and 
that these islands were not so completely sur- 
rounded by weed as they are to-day. We resolved 
to come here. The question was how. Twenty 
years ago the submarine was still in its infancy; 
but I knew something of Mr. Holland’s exper- 
iments, and we built a submersible craft of about 
five hundred tons, called the Saga, which proved 
to be very successful. We collected seven good 
men, and, diving under the weed, reached the 
island successfully.” 

He paused and a look of sadness clouded his fine 
old face. 


34 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


“Of the original nine who set sail nineteen years 
ago, Scipio and myself are the only survivors.” 

Martin waited breathlessly. The Professor 
went on : 

“Two of us, Norton and Philips, were killed 
when the Lemurians first attacked us. Then 
Krieger, with three men, went back for fresh men 
and machinery. He returned in safety with a 
cargo of necessaries and two new men. They were 
good fellows, and we lived here very happily to- 
gether, busy all day and every day, and keeping 
in touch with the outer world by means of our 
wireless. It is true we were attacked more than 
once, but with modern devices were able to keep 
even the fierce Lemurians at bay. All went well 
until, in 1914, the great war broke out. We heard 
the news with horror, for we foresaw the terrible 
nature of the struggle. 

“Doctor Krieger, believing that Denmark 
would be brought in, and aware that his scientific 
knowledge would be of great value to his country, 
decided to return and offer his services. He sailed, 
leaving Scipio, myself, and a man named Caunter 
in charge. With our electric devices we were safe 
'from the Lemurians, and he promised to send the 
Saga back at once. 

“Alas, he never reached Denmark! From that 


THE PAINTED HALL 


35 


day to this I have never heard a word of him or 
of the Saga. There is no doubt that they struck 
a mine or got entangled in one of the great steel 
nets set to catch under-water craft.* * 

The Professor sighed again heavily. 1 ‘For a 
long time I waited, hoping against hope for news. 
When at last I realized that it was hopeless, I 
realized also that we were completely cut off un- 
less I called outside help. This I hesitated to do, 
for I could not, of course, tell who would answer, 
and I was afraid of the Germans catching my 
messages. Then came a new disaster. Caunter, 
fishing on the lake, was attacked by some monster 
of the depths ; and, before we could help him, the 
boat was smashed and he was dragged down.” 

“What sort of beast?” asked Martin breath- 
lessly. 

“A manta — one of the great rays. The lake, 
1 may tell you, is salt, and communicates with the 
sea by a narrow, winding passage, and strange 
creatures come in at times from the outer 
ocean. 

“And so,” continued the Professor, “I waited 
only until I knew the Germans were beaten, then 
I began to send out my messages, timing them so 
that only some experimentalist like yourself would 
be likely to catch them. And so you have come, 


36 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


and once more I beg to tell you bow grateful 
I am.” 

Martin grew red. 

“I don’t deserve your thanks, sir,” be an- 
swered bluntly. “I came as much for my own 
sake as yours. 

‘ 4 It’s this way,” be went on. “I have lost my 
father and everything else through the villainy of 
his partner, a man called Morton Willard. I want 
money to clear my father’s name.” 

“Tell me,” said the Professor. 

Martin explained. He told the whole story of 
the Cleansand Bay swindle, and of how Morton 
Willard, himself the real culprit, had thrown the 
blame on Mr. Vaile, and after his death cleared 
out with the spoil of which he had robbed the 
unfortunate settlers. 

“So you see, sir,” ended Martin, “my chief 
object in life is to make sufficient to pay off every 
claim against my dear father and clear his name. 
After that” — his face hardened 'as he spoke — 
“I propose to go after Willard.” 

Professor Distin nodded. 

“Your feelings do you credit, my boy, and, as 
far as in me lies, I will help you. I am not a rich 
man, for I spent most of my capital on the Saga, 
and though there are valuable minerals on this 


THE PAINTED HALL 


37 


island, there is no gold. Yet there is gold in 
plenty not far away. Lemnria is full of it.” 

Martin’s eyes glowed. 

“How do you know?” he asked. 

“From the Lemurians who invaded us. Wait. 
I will show you.” 

He went across the room, and took down from 
the wall a heavy shield made of the hide of some 
unknown animal, and studded with great bosses 
of yellow metal. 

“There is at least a couple of pounds’ weight 
of gold on that alone,” he said. “Their helmets, 
too, were covered with gold. It seems to be the 
only metal they have, except bronze. But they 
have pearls, too, for. some of the men wore strings 
of them. The trouble will be, of course, to get 
hold of some of these valuables.” 

Martin’s face fell. 

“I had forgotten. No, of course we can’t,” he 
said dolefully. 

“I am not so sure of that,” answered the Pro- 
fessor. “Iam as anxious as you to visit Lemuria, 
for there must be much there of immense interest. 
These Lemurians, remember, belong to a race long 
extinct on the rest of the planet. I have of late 
made a plan for getting into communication with 
them. 


38 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


“My idea is,” continued the Professor, “to cap- 
ture some of them, and to teach them by kindness. 
Once we master their language I believe we might 
make friends.” 

“That is a splendid idea, sir!” cried Martin. 
“The one thing I don’t see is how we are going to 
catch them.” 

“Wait till they visit us again. They come here 
about once a year. My own belief is that the 
painted cave is a sacred place to them, a sort of 
shrine of pilgrimage, and that they attack us 
simply because we keep them out of it. ’ ’ 

The two sat chatting together until past ten 
o’clock. Martin could have talked all night. He 
w'as too intensely interested to feel sleepy. It 
was the Professor who at last sent him off to 
bed. 

The bed had a spring mattress and snowy 
sheets. Martin had hardly laid his head on the 
pillow before he was sound asleep. The next thing 
he knew someone was shaking him by the shoulder, 
and, opening his eyes drowsily, he saw the black 
face of Scipio bending over him. The man had a 
lighted candle in his hand. 

“Yo’ get up quick, Marse Vaile,” he said, in a 
low voice. “Dar’s trouble brewing.” 

“What’s the matter V 9 inquired Martin sleepily. 


THE PAINTED HALL 39 

“Dem fellers from de oder island. Dat’s what 
de trouble is.’’ 

“An attack, you mean?” 

“Dat’s so, boss. I reckon dey seen yo’ airy- 
plane, an’ dey come to find out what sort o’ hoodoo 
yo’ come to make. Dar dey are.” 

Martin sat up, broad awake now. 

Through the breathless hush of the warm, dark 
night there came a strange low chanting, accom- 
panied by the steady splash of oars. 


CHAPTEE V 


THE GOLDEN GIANTS 

“ There ain’t no need to break yonr neck a-hurry- 
ing, Marse Martin,” suggested Scipio mildly. 
1 ‘Them folk ain’t a-going to git through the water 
gate, not in any sort of quick time.” 

“ There is no other way of getting in that I 
know of, Mr. Vaile,” said Professor Distin, who 
had just come into the room. 

“Please don’t call me Mr. Vaile,” broke in 
Martin quickly. 

“Very well, Martin,” answered the old gentle- 
man, with a smile. “Now, if you are dressed, 
come with me. I will warrant you a sight such 
as few men have seen, something that will take 
you back a thousand years and more.” 

He led the way into the big living-room. Here 
all was dark, and Martin stumbled against a 
chair. 

“No lights,” explained the Professor. “It 
would not do. Although these windows are sixty 
feet above the lake, I would not give much for my 
glass if even a gleam of light were seen behind it.” 


40 


THE GOLDEN GIANTS 


41 


‘ ‘ What — they haven ’t guns ? 9 9 

“Hardly. They do not know what powder is. 
But they have slings and long bows. The slings 
are, no doubt, the old Atlantean weapons, and the 
bows they must have got from the Norsemen. 

“Now follow me,” he added. “Keep close, and 
do not on any account move away from me . 9 9 

“But don’t we want weapons?” asked Martin, 
in surprise. 

“I have a pistol in my pocket, in case of emer- 
gency,” replied the other. “But the last thing 
I wish to do is to kill, or even injure, any of these 
people. We never have done so unless absolutely 
driven to it. ” 

“But you had a fight once. You told me you 
lost men.” 

“Morton and Philips,” answered the Professor 
sadly. “The Lemurians got into the Painted Hall 
through a passage of which we did not know the 
existence. We had to kill seven of them in 
all. 

“But here is a weapon, if you want one,” con- 
tinued the Professor, and he took down from the 
wall a great bronze battle-ax of which the handle 
was banded with gold. “We took that from one 
of the dead men. ’ 9 

Martin took it, and followed his guide out into, 


42 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


the Painted Hall. Flashing his little light upon 
the bare rock floor, the Professor picked his way 
among the pillars to the head of the great stair- 
way, but on reaching this he switched off the torch 
again, and took Martin by the hand. 

“Not a sound ,’ 9 he whispered. “Not a sound 
now, if you value your life.” 

With the warning he led Martin down the broad, 
smooth steps. From below came a confused 
splashing and the booming sound of deep voices. 
A smoky glare of light was reflected upwards from 
the tunnel. 

Half-way down the Professor drew 1 Martin into 
a deep niche in the rock wall. There was the snap 
of a switch, and all of a sudden the whole scene 
leapt out under the glare of the powerful electrics. 
At the same moment a shower of arrows came 
whizzing through the air. 

Martin drew a long breath. The Professor had 
promised that he should see a strange sight, but 
this — this was beyond anything he could have 
dreamed of. For there, in the black rock tunnel, 
just outside the steel bars of the water gate, lay 
a craft that brought back memory with a flash to 
the picture-books of his childhood. With its high- 
beaked prow and raised stern, the shields lining 
its bulwarks, and the long oars protruding from 


THE GOLDEN GIANTS 


43 


port-holes in the sides, it was a Norse long-ship, 
one of those wonderful open craft in which the 
Vikings crossed the whole width of the stormy 
Atlantic from Denmark to Greenland and Vine- 
land. 

If the craft was wonderful, her crew were more 
wonderful still. There were about thirty of them. 
Not one was less than six feet high or forty inches 
round the chest. Most had skins of a pale golden 
brown, but two or three were quite fair under 
their coat of sun tan, and had long, yellow hair. 
Their splendid appearance was made more splen- 
did by their dress — a sort of close-fitting tunic 
reaching to the knees, and made of a white fabric 
blended with gold thread. They wore helmets 
ornamented with gold, and their shields, too, were 
studded with great golden bosses. 

Sandals were on their feet, bound with leather 
thongs which criss-crossed their sinewy legs ; and 
for weapons they had not only bows, but short 
swords and battle-axes, the blades of which were 
of bronze, heavy and sharp as tempered steel. 

“Fine specimens, eh, Martin ?” said the Pro- 
fessor in Martin’s ear. 

“Splendid,” whispered Martin. “But surely 
the gate will never hold against them.” 

“They know too much to touch it,” answered 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


44 

the Professor dryly. “I shouldn’t like to say how 
many volts it is charged with.” 

“Then what are they doing there at all?” 
demanded Martin. 

“That is what I am here to find out,” replied 
the Professor. “They know as well as I that the 
gate forms an impassable barrier.” 

There was a pause, but behind a barricade of 
shields in the bow of the ship something was hap- 
pening. Martin waited in breathless suspense. 
All of a sudden two splendid figures, stripped 
stark naked, dived like otters into the dark water. 

“They’re going to dive under the gate,” Martin 
said in a whisper. 

Nearly a minute passed while Martin watched 
breathlessly the space of water lying between the 
gate and the wharf where lay the launch. It was 
clear that the invaders were going down to a great 
depth so as to avoid the electric barrier. 

The dark water broke, and the two heads ap- 
peared side by side. The white glare of the elec- 
trics showed up every feature plainly ; and Martin 
saw no look of fear in the eyes of either of them. 
Treading water a minute, they looked all round, 
then both swam towards the launch and caught 
hold of the stem. 

“They’ll wreck her!” breathed Martin in alarm. 


THE GOLDEN GIANTS 45 

“I don’t think so. Besides ” And Martin 

saw a smile on the wise old face beside him. 

The two giants pulled themselves aboard the 
launch. They stepped gingerly, glancing around 
in evident discomfort. A boat with no oars or 
sails was something they could not comprehend. 

The launch rocked a little under the weight of 
the two Lemurians, who must each have weighed 
at least fifteen stone, and every ounce of it solid 
bone and muscle. 

Still the Professor did not move. Well hidden 
in the deep recess, he watched the curious scene 
beneath. 

One of the Lemurians stooped and ventured to 
lift the hatch over the engine. As he did so, the 
Professor raised his hand and pulled over a 
switch. The result was almost as startling to 
Martin as to the Lemurians. A blast of trumpets 
sent the echoes crashing up and down the tunnel, 
and out into the rocky fiord beyond. The sound 
came from somewhere inside the launch. It was 
followed by a voice, a thundering voice which 
roared out something in a language which Martin 
could not understand, but which sounded like a 
very vigorous command. 

If Martin did not understand it, the Lemurians 
did, or, at any rate, they seemed to. They leaped 


46 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


overboard and disappeared into the depths of the 
channel. A few moments later they bobbed up on 
the far side of the water-gate, and were hauled 
aboard the long-ship. The ship instantly cast off. 
Oars were shoved out, the water boiled under the 
thrash of the long, heavy blades, and the beauti- 
fully designed craft went sweeping away towards 
the open lake, pursued by demoniacal shouts and 
trumpet blasts from the empty launch. 

It was not until the long-ship was out of sight 
that Martin at last turned a wondering face to the 
Professor. 

The latter smiled indulgently. 

“ Quite simple,’ ’ he said. “A gramophone with 
a megaphone attachment. As for the order, those 
were the only few words of the Lemurian language 
which we knew. They mean something like ‘Run 
for your lives.’ I had arranged it so as to be able 
to switch it on from here, and I may add that 
if it had not worked, I had a few more surprises 
up my sleeve.” 

Martin burst out laughing. 

“Bully!” he exclaimed. “The poor devils! 
They must have thought that the most awful magic 
they had ever run across. I’ll bet they’ll never 
come back.” 

“Don’t be too sure about that,” replied the 


THE GOLDEN GIANTS 


47 


Professor gravely. ‘ 4 Remember, Martin, these 
men are not savages. They have enormous pluck, 
and although their superstitious fears have got 
the better of them for the moment, I will warrant 
they will try again.’ ’ 

He stopped short, raising his hand for silence. 

‘ ‘What’s that?” he said sharply. 

Before Martin could reply there came a loud 
and desperate shout from above. “Help, Marse 
Distin! Help, boss!” 

“It’s Scipio,” muttered the Professor, and was 
off up the great staircase with a speed surprising 
for a man of his years. 


CHAPTER VI 


IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY 

As Martin raced up the smooth steps he heard a 
heavy thud and a ringing clatter of metal. He 
passed the Professor, and ran at full speed be- 
tween the tall, sculptured columns in the direction 
of the sound. The Professor having switched on 
all the electrics, the great hall was as light as day. 

“Dis way, Marse Vaile!” came a shout from 
Scipio ; and, as he rounded a great columned pillar, 
Martin saw in front of him the negro battling 
desperately with one of the golden giants. Scipio, 
who was a burly man still in the prime of life, 
was armed with a tremendous club. That he had 
used it well was proved by the fact that one of 
the enemy lay flat upon the rock floor of the hall. 
The second, however, was pressing him hard, 
driving at him with his short but deadly-looking 
sword. 

How the Lemurians had got there, or what had 
happened, there was no time to inquire. All that 
Martin saw was that Scipio could not last another 
moment. Swinging his battle ax high in the air. 


48 


49 


IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY 
he dashed recklessly into the fray. The great 
Lemurian, busy with Scipio, did not see the boy 
coming. When he turned, to see him, it was too 
late, for Martin had him at his mercy. Yet even 
in that moment Martin did not forget what the 
Professor had said about not killing the Lemur- 
ians, and it was the blunt back of his ax which 
smote the tall foeman on the top of his head, and 
sent him rattling in his armor to the floor. 

“ Quick, boss!” panted Scipio. “Dere’s more 
a-coming. See dat hole under de pillar? Dat’s 
where dey’s coming up. Yo’ help me to shut de 
door.” 

Martin saw in a flash. At the base of the great 
carven columns gaped a dark opening which had 
been covered with a slab of stone. This was now 
leaning against the pillar. Together he and 
Scipio flung themselves upon the slab. It was 
desperately heavy, and took all their strength to 
move it. 

Martin had hardly got hold of it before he felt 
his left leg grasped by a huge hand. He yelled to 
Scipio, and kicked out desperately. It was use- 
less. He was plucked away as a lion might seize 
a dog, and the next instant was dragged down into 
the depths of the pit. 

For a moment Martin had a horrible sensation 


50 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


of falling, dropping into unknown depths. Then 
he was caught — caught as easily as a child might 
catch a kitten — in a pair of giant arms. He heard 
a hoarse cry of triumph, and looking up saw, red 
in the smoky glare of torches, a face more terrible 
than any he had ever pictured in his wildest 
dreams. 

It was the face of a giant with a nose resembling 
an eagle ’s beak, and fierce eyes gleaming like pale 
steel. The golden heard was turning gray, and 
the hair was long and gray under the heavy hel- 
met. But it was the mouth that was the worst 
feature of all. Wide, with thin lips, it showed 
teeth like those of a wild animal, and by some 
curious malformation of the upper jaw the eye- 
teeth on each side projected outside the lower lip, 
like the tusks of a walrus. 

The owner of the face was nearly seven feet 
high, and had a chest like the gnarled trunk of an 
old oak. 

For a moment he held Martin in both hands, 
glaring at him with a look of such malice and 
savagery in those evil gray eyes as made the boy 
cold to the bone. Then, with a deep laugh, the 
monster swung him lightly over his shoulder and 
went striding away down a long, sloping tunnel. 

Martin had little time to think. His captor went 



For a moment he held Martin in both hands 



IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY 51 

on at a tremendous pace, and he, hanging like a 
sack over the giant’s shoulders, was bumped and 
swung till his head swam. A few moments only, 
and they came out on to a narrow ledge of rock 
just above the level of the lake. 

Lying tied to the ledge was a boat, a sort of 
shallop, broad and solid, but with low sides. Into 
this the big man stepped, dumping Martin down 
in the bottom as unceremoniously as a sack of 
coals. The next thing that he knew was that the 
boat was humping alongside the longship in the 
open lake. 

The tusked giant stooped, grasped him, and, as 
he swung him up into view of the crew of the long- 
ship, the crew burst into a long-drawn shout of 
i ‘ Haro! Haro, Odan!” 

Next moment he was pitched into the longship, 
and found himself lying on the bottom boards be- 
tween the two benches on which sat the rowers. 
A fresh roar of triumph from every throat. Then 
a stern command from Odan, who was evidently 
the captain of the Lemurians, and the strangely 
shaped craft sped away towards the mouth of the 
sea loch. 

Left to himself for the moment, Martin tried to 
pull himself together, and think what was best to 
be done. For the life of him he could not see any 


52 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


way out. True, the Lemurians had not tied him, 
but that did not help. Even if he could seize a 
chance to spring overboard, they would have him 
again at once. In any case, the ship was by now 
a long way from shore, and he had no notion 
whether he could reach it. 

The more he considered matters, the more help- 
less seemed his position. He knew, of course, that 
the Professor and Scipio would do all in their 
power to rescue him, but he could not see how one 
frail old man and a negro could do very much. 
They had nothing but the little launch, which 
would crack like an egg-sheel under the driving 
weight of the Lemurian ship. 

Even if Professor Distin were to resort to fire- 
arms it would be next to impossible to pick off 
enough of these many rowers, protected as they 
were by their thick shields, to cripple the long- 
ship. 

His heart sank, and with every stroke of the 
oars he came nearer to despair. 

After a while Martin tried cautiously to raise 
himself so as to see where they were going. His 
movement was noticed, and a rough hand seized 
him, shook him, and flung him down again. His 
blood boiled, but, knowing the utter uselessness of 
resistance, he lay still. 


IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY 


53 


The sound of the oars changed. The beat was 
echoed back from cliffs, and Martin knew that the 
ship must be fast approaching the narrow channel 
leading to the sea. At the same time he noticed 
something else. A slight mist was dimming the 
stars overhead. It thickened so rapidly that even 
the mast-head of the longship was scarcely visible. 
He heard an angry growl from Odan, the oar beats 
slackened, and the longship moved more slowly. 

Martin was amazed. Fog on a night like this, 
and on a warm, almost tropical sea, was a very 
strange phenomenon. Every moment it grew 
more dense, and now Martin realized that this was 
no ordinary mist. It was smoke! He could 
smell it. 

His thoughts flew at once to the volcano. Was 
this smoke beating down from its lofty crest? or 
was some fresh eruption beginning? He knew 
that the great cone was far from extinct ; and the 
Professor had spoken of earthquakes from time to 
time. 

The smoke became so thick that Martin could 
hardly see a yard before him. It reeked of sul- 
phur. His eyes were streaming, the foul stuff 
was in his lungs, and he was choking for 
breath. 

Suddenly the gloom was lit by a dull glare of 


54 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


light which seemed to be dead ahead. A moment 
later came a heavy thudding explosion, the water 
boiled, and the longship pitched heavily on a 
series of great, swelling waves. Now Martin was 
sure that he was right. A volcanic eruption had 
begun. 

Another bump ! Then all of a sudden the men 
around Martin tried to scramble to their feet, and 
he heard hoarse cries of terror. He himself made 
an effort to scramble up, and this time no one 
stopped him. Then, through the reek, appeared a 
face so hideous that Martin stopped, appalled. 
With its vast snout, from which hung down a curi- 
ous tube, it was like nothing human. 

It made no sound; but a pair of hands stretched 
out towards Martin, and, to his utter amazement, 
they and the arms above them were black ! 

In a flash he understood. This was Scipio ! 

He could have shouted with sheer delight, but 
had no breath. He could only choke. But he knew 
now, and scrambled up. The hands grasped him 
firmly, and drew him to his feet. 

Half-choked and poisoned as they were, the 
Lemurians had no intention of parting so easily 
with their prey. With a hoarse cry of rage the 
great Odan lunged forward, seized Martin’s arm 
with his monstrous hand, and began to drag him 


IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY 55 

away. Then, from behind Scipio, another hand 
shot forward. It did not touch Odan, but in an 
instant he gave a choking bellow of pain and rage, 
his hold on Martin relaxed, and he staggered back 
flinging both hands up to his face. 

Before he could recover, Scipio had dragged 
Martin clear, and the two were over the gunwale 
of the longship and in the launch. Like a flash 
the light little craft spun round in her own length, 
and darted away in the opposite direction. 

The launch was in the cove harbor and safe in- 
side the water gate before Martin was well enough 
to speak. Even then the Professor would not let 
him talk, and Scipio had to help him up the stairs 
and through the Painted Hall. 

Lying in a long chair in the rock-roofed living- 
room, the boy rested and drank a draught which 
the Professor prepared for him. 

“I thought it was the volcano starting up,” was 
the first thing he said. 

“I don’t wonder,” replied the Professor, with 
his dry little smile. “As a matter of fact, I was 
taking a leaf out of Admiral Roger Keye’s book, 
and using a mixture of phosphorus and sulphur 
which produced a dense artificial fog similar to 
what the motor launches spread in the attacks on 
Ostend and Zeebrugge.” 


56 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


4 ‘It was jolly smart of you,” said Martin 
heartily. 

' “It was the only thing to do, Martin. Perhaps, 
after such a lesson, the Lemurians will leave us 
alone for a' time.” 

“They ’ll be fools if they don’t,” replied Martin, 
laughing. 

Then he started up. “But I say, Professor, 
what about the prisoners ? ’ * 

The Professor got up quickly. He looked grave. 
“Upon my word, Martin, I had completely for- 
gotten them.” 

“Scipio!” he called. 

There was no answer. 

“Ah, Scipio has remembered,” continued the 
Professor. “No doubt he has gone to tie them up. 
Let us go and see.” 

They hurried into the Painted Hall ; but before 
they had gone many steps, Scipio himself was seen 
hurrying to meet them. 

“What about the prisoners, Scipio?” asked the 
Professor quickly. 

“Dat’s jest what I was coming to tell you about, 
sah. One of dem is dere whar Marse Martin laid 
him out wid dat battle ax, and I’ve tied him jest 
to make sure. But de oder, de one I knocked down, 
he’s done gone. I can’t see him no whar.” 


IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY 57 

The Professor looked at Martin; Martin looked 
at the Professor. Both faces were grave. 

“This is a bad job, sir,” said Martin* “Where 
can he have got to?” 

“Dar ain’t no doubt about dat, boss. He’s gone 
down dat dar tunnel hole. Me and de Professor, 
we put de stone back, but he’s done lifted it again, 
for it’s a-lying dar on its side.” 

“Then he has taken to the lake and probably 
swum after the longship,” said the Professor. 
“But we must make sure. Let us arm ourselves, 
and take lights, and go down the tunnel. ’ ’ 

A few minutes later Martin stood once more in 
the gloomy tunnel through which he had been 
carried as prisoner little more than an hour 
earlier. Scipio was with him; but the Professor 
had remained behind in the Painted Hall. 

The two went quickly out on to the ledge by the 
water’s edge, and Martin looked round in every 
direction. There was not a sign of any living 
thing to be seen. 

Martin turned to Scipio. “The man can’t have 
swum very far, Scipio,” he said. “And, person- 
ally, I don’t believe he would have been fool 
enough to try to follow his friends that way. If 
he did swim out, he has probably landed again in 
some little cleft near by.” 


58 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


“I don’t know as lie’s been swimimng at all, 
Marse Martin,” responded the negro. 

“How do yon mean, Scipio?” 

“Why, sab, I mean be might bab climbed up 
dem dar rocks. Yo’ look wbar I’m a-pointing.” 

Martin looked. Sure enongb, there was a sort 
of cleft — what Alpine climbers call a 6 1 chimney ’ ’ 
— up which the Lemurian might very well have 
forced his way. 

“Yes,” said Martin slowly. “It’s quite likely 
you’re right, Scipio.” 

As he spoke he moved forward along a narrow 
ledge which led to the foot of this curious cleft. 

“I wouldn’t go out dar, Marse Martin,” came 
Scipio ’s voice from behind him. 

“Why not?” asked Martin, turning. 

The movement saved his life, for at that very 
instant there was a loud rumbling sound overhead, 
and with a rattle of loose stones an enormous 
boulder, flung* from some unseen height above, 
came whizzing down. It missed Martin by a mere 
matter of inches, and plunged into the inlet, fling- 
ing up a fountain of foam ten feet into the air. 


CHAPTER VII 


THE HORROR OF THE HEIGHTS 

Never in his life had Martin moved so quickly as 
in the next few seconds after the fall of the stone. 
He was back beside Scipio in three jumps, but, 
quick as he was, a second rock was on its way 
down before he was actually in safety. 

“Hat fellow sure want to kill us mighty bad, 
Marse Martin, ” Scipio remarked. 

4 4 If you hadn’t called to me when you did, he 
would have killed me, Scipio,” replied Martin. 
“I only just turned in time.” 

4 4 Well, he didn’t git you, sah, and I reckon he 
won’t now,” he added quietly. 4 4 All de same, it 
ain’t no fun to hab one o’ dese here wild men a 
fossicking round loose all ober dis old island ob 
ours.” 

4 4 You ’re right there, Scipio, It’s no fun at all. 
And it’s not going to be fun for any of us until 
we ’ve got him safely boxed. Strikes me we ’d best 
go back and ask the Professor what we are to do.” 

The Professor was very much disturbed at the 
tidings which Martin brought him. 

59 


60 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


‘‘I don’t know what we are to do,” he said, 
shaking his head. “The garden and orchard will 
be at the Lemurian’s mercy. This island is full of 
hiding-places of which he can take every advan- 
tage.” 

“Don’t worry, sir,” said Martin. “I’m sure 
we shall find some way of tackling him. The great 
thing is to make sure that he can’t get in here.” 

“Quite so. Scipio knows all the entrances. Go 
round with him and see that all are closed. As 
for this trap-door in the Painted Hall, we can 
make it safe by rolling a rock upon it.” 

“Hadn’t we better tie up this other Lemurian 
before I go?” suggested Martin, anxiously. 

The Professor smiled. 

“No need for that. The unfortunate man is 
still insensible. You must have hit him pretty 
hard, Martin.” 

“Not too hard, I hope, sir.” 

“Oh, no! His skull is fairly solid, and he will 
pull round. But he has concussion, and is not 
likely to be troublesome for some days to come. 
Now go and see to the doors.” 

Ten minutes later Martin was able to report to 
the Professor that it was quite impossible for any- 
one to get in. 

“Very good,” said the Professor. “Now you 


THE HORROR OF THE HEIGHTS 61 


and Scipio can help me to put this man to bed, 
and after that you had better get some sleep. I 
foresee a busy day tomorrow.” 

The Lemurian was young and not so huge as 
most of his fellows, yet even so it was as much 
as the three of them could do to carry him to a 
room, and put him to bed. 

This done, the Professor ordered Martin to bed 
again, and Martin was not sorry. He was sore all 
over from the handling he had had that night, and, 
once he got off to sleep again, never moved until 
he woke, with the sun blazing through the long 
window of his room, full in his eyes, and Scipio 
standing beside him, with a cup of delicious hot 
chocolate on a tray. 

1 ‘ Bath ready, sail,” announced the good fellow. 
“ Yo ’ come wid me. I show you whar he is. ” 

The bath was in a rock chamber behind the bed- 
rooms. A stream of water came pouring through 
the roof into a great rock basin. It was crystal 
clear and icy cold. Martin fairly revelled in 
it, and came out with a keen appetite. 

“And now, Martin,” said the Professor, when 
they had finished a hearty breakfast, “the next 
thing is to devise some plan for capturing our 
enemy. But how it is to be done I confess I have 
not the faintest idea. If we start out afoot the 


62 MARTIN CRUSOE 

chances are we shall find ourselves the hunted in- 
stead of the hunters.” 

“I should think we should, sir,” Martin an- 
swered. “The chap is as strong as all three of 
us put together. He can move like a cat, jump 
like a goat, and swim like an otter. Into the bar- 
gain, I expect his senses are a lot keener than 
ours.” 

“I agree with every word you say, Martin,” 
said the Professor. “Yet I do not see any al- 
ternative. Do you ? ’ ’ 

“Yes,” replied Martin, “I do. I’ve been think- 
ing it over, and it seems to me that our best plan 
will be to hunt him from the air.” 

The other looked up quickly. “Your aeroplane, 
you mean? I never thought of that. Undoubtedly 
you are right. ’ ’ 

Martin lost no time in getting aboard his plane. 

The great twin engines roared, and the echoes 
thrown back from the rocky roof were deafening 
as the graceful machine taxied swiftly down the 
tunnel, through the fiord, and so into the open 
lake. 

Once outside, Martin opened the throttle to its 
widest, and, tearing across the smooth surface, 
pushed over the control, and found himself lifting 
lightly into the sunny air. 


THE HORROR OF THE HEIGHTS 63 


Turning his head he caught a glimpse of the 
Professor and Scipio just shooting out from the 
fiord in the launch. In a moment it had dwindled 
to the size of a toy, and Martin was wheeling up- 
wards in steep circles. 

His idea was to cruise about at a moderate 
height, and endeavor to get sight of the Lemurian. 

Very soon he was above the tall cliffs, and sail- 
ing over the lower slopes of the great peak in 
the foot of which were the caves. Above him the 
snow-clad mountain towered against the blue, like 
a cone of icing sugar. On the far side of the lake 
the twin mountain stood up steeper and darker, 
with its trail of volcanic smoke drifting lazily be- 
fore the wind. 

Martin flew back over the range of caves, and 
presently caught sight of a long shallow valley 
down the center of which a stream poured in little 
waterfalls. The ground on either side was ter- 
raced and vividly green. 

“Ah, that’s the garden,” he said to himself. 
“Now, I wonder if the man is there?” 

Twice he circled over it, dropping lower. But 
there was no moving thing, to be seen, and, rising 
again, he began to search the whole mountain side, 
quartering to and fro just as a kestrel hawk hunts 
across a meadow for field-mice or voles. 


64 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


Half an hour passed, and Martin had seen 
nothing moving except birds, rock rabbits, and 
once a great snake trailing its shimmering coils 
across the rock. He turned north, and began 
searching that side of the peak. 

Here the slope was steeper and wilder. There 
was little in the way of shrubs, and the only green 
he saw was strips of grass lining the banks of the 
many little torrents which came tumbling from 
the heights. 

“ Hardly likely that he’s there,” he said to him- 
self ; and banking steeply, came round again. As 
he came round he suddenly caught a glimpse of 
something moving far up against the steep moun- 
tain side. Mere dot as it was he realized that it 
was something living and something larger than 
he had yet seen. 

Instantly he swung towards it, and his heart 
gave a great throb. 

“It’s he,” he gasped — “the man himself! But 
what, in the name of all that’s wonderful, is he 
doing up there 1 ’ ’ 

It was the Lemurian. Of that there was no 
doubt whatever. As the plane flashed towards 
him, Martin could clearly see the sun’s rays re- 
flected from the gold on his helmet and corselet, 
and very soon he saw something else. 


THE HORROR OF THE HEIGHTS 65 


Every other moment the reflection from the 
golden armor was cut off by a great, dark shadow 
which passed to and fro. 

Martin was puzzled. 

“ Something is attacking him,” he said in a 
low voice. “But what can it be? What creature, 
except a goat or a mountain sheep, could live on 
these heights?” 

The Bat devoured the distance at, the rate of a 
mile and a half a minute, and it was only a matter 
of seconds before the puzzle was solved. It was 
no wild beast that was attacking the Lemur- 
ian, but a bird ; a bird of such monstrous 
size that it made Martin blink with amaze- 
ment. 

Standing on a ledge, with his back against the 
sheer rock, the golden giant defended himself 
bravely with his short sword against the attacks 
of his enemy. But, big as he was, the bird fairly 
dwarfed him. Judging roughly, Martin thought 
that the creature must be at least twelve feet 
across the wings, and the swift fury of its swoops 
made him see how fearless and formidable an 
enemy it was. 

Martin wondered what on earth he could do. 
Naturally, it was impossible to land. It seemed 
to him that the only thing to do was to fly past as 


66 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


closely as possible, and endeavor to draw off or 
frighten tlie huge bird of prey. 

He had not much time to consider. Traveling at 
such speed, he was on the scene of battle in a few 
seconds. Just as he came swirling up he saw the 
bird make a fresh dash, and this time its attack 
appeared to succeed. The Lemurian swayed, 
staggered, and, falling over sideways, lay motion- 
less on the ledge. 

“Poor fellow !” muttered Martin. In spite of 
the fact that the man had done his best to kill him 
on the previous evening Martin felt a pang of real 
sorrow. 

Next moment Martin’s own hands were full, for 
the bird, swinging past the fallen man, had sighted 
the plane, and turned upon it with fury. 

“Takes me for another bird,” Martin said 
aloud. “Well, he’ll learn the difference.” As he 
spoke he drew his pistol from its holster. 

The eagle was coming for him straight as a 
bullet, and with a speed equal to his own. Martin 
realized that if the bird got mixed up in the plane, 
the results might be very serious indeed. Its 
weight and bulk were so great that it might easily 
break a blade of one of the tractors, in which case 
the Bat would be helpless as far as flying went. 

In order to avoid this danger, he banked sharply 


THE HORROR OF THE HEIGHTS 67 

and swung ont widely from the mountain side. 
Quick as he was, his enemy was as quick. It 
struck the right hand upper plane, and Martin 
saw with dismay that a long strip of the canvas 
had been torn away. 

4 ‘The brute !” he cried, and flung the plane into 
a swift dive. 

For the moment he lost sight of the bird, but 
only for a moment. Then it was at him again. 
Pulling his control towards him, he shot up again. 
This brought him abreast of his adversary, and 
instantly he let fly with his pistol. The shooting 
seemed to drive the bird frantic with rage, and it 
came at him like a thunderbolt. 

By the smartest possible manoeuvering he just 
managed to avoid its onslaught ; but the next mo- 
ment he got a fresh shock, for here was the bird 
attacking him from the other — that is, the left- 
hand — side. As he swerved once more to avoid it, 
he saw, to his horror, that it was not the same 
bird, but another, even larger than the first. 

“A pair of them! ” he gasped. “This looks 
ugly!” 


CHAPTER VIII 


BATTLE ROYAL 

The odds were too great. In a flash Martin saw 
that his only chance of safety lay in flight. Push- 
ing over the control he let the nose of the Bat dip 
sharply, and, at the same moment opened his 
throttle to the widest. Instantly he was swooping 
lakewards at terrific speed. 

In an ordinary volplane, or dipping flight, the 
pilot shuts off his engine completely. Even then 
the pace is tremendous. Imagine, then, what hap- 
pens when you are not only dropping, but driving 
at the same time with the whole of your engine 
power. 

Never since he had first handled a plane had 
Martin traveled so fast. The air howled past him 
like a hurricane; beneath, the rugged mountain- 
side shot away like a cinema film. The strain on 
the Bat’s planes was terrific. Martin knew well 
the heavy risk he was taking, yet, aware of the 
eagles’ powers of flight, he realized that this was 
his only chance to get away. He ventured to 
68 


BATTLE ROYAL 


69 


glance back, and there were the two giant birds 
hurtling in pursuit. But even their marvellous 
wing power did not equal those of the Bat. He 
was escaping rapidly. 

But he was getting dangerously close to the sur- 
face of the lake. To hit it at anything like this 
speed meant certain destruction. He switched 
off his engine, flattened out, and alighted. 

Once more switching on his engine, he started 
‘‘taxying” across the lake towards the mouth of 
the Tunnel Cove. 

He had had some sort of hope that, once he was 
on the water, the eagles would leave him. Noth- 
ing of the sort. Almost before he had started 
they came swooping down at him. 

But now Martin was in a better position to deal 
with them. For the moment he could leave the 
plane to take care of itself. Snatching up his 
automatic, he opened fire upon the first of the 
great birds of prey, which was close upon him. 
One of the bullets struck it full in the breast, and 
down it came upon the water, thrashing the calm 
surface into foam with its wings. 

An automatic is like a machine gun. It goes on 
firing as long as the finger is pressed on the trig- 
ger. As Martin swung round to fire at his second 
assailant the rapid explosions ceased, and he rea- 


70 MARTIN CRUSOE 

lized with a thrill of horror that the magazine was 
exhausted. 

The second eagle — the female, and the larger of 
the two — seemed roused to fresh fury jby the 
downfall of her mate, and came at Martin like a 
bolt shot from a catapult. He did the only thing 
possible — flung himself down at the bottom of the 
“ nacelle,’ ’ or hull, of the flying boat, and lay 
flat, while he feverishly strove to thrust fresh 
cartridges into his pistol. 

He felt the wind of the vast pinions as the bird 
swung just above him, heard a rending tear as 
her hooked talons ripped the canvas of the plane 
just overhead, and knew that her first swoop had 
missed. 

Then came a fresh misfortune. In his hurry he 
jammed the pistol. A cartridge stuck half in 
and half out. The weapon was useless. It was 
hardly likely that the eagle would fail a second 
time. 

Nothing happened, however— at least, nothing 
happened to Martin, yet he could still hear the 
beating of the great bird’s wings. He could also 
hear a splashing sound, and at the same time was 
conscious of a curious harsh, musky odor. 

After a moment or two curiosity got the better 
of fright, and he ventured to raise his head and 


BATTLE ROYAL 71 

look round. The sight that met his eyes nearly 
paralyzed him. 

Out of the deep water of the lake had risen 
'something that looked like the head and neck of 
a great snake, and between this new horror and 
the eagle a battle royal was raging. 

Petrified with amazement, Martin stared at this 
marvelous combat. The engine had stopped, the 
tractors had ceased to revolve, but Martin never 
thought of pressing the electric starter again. 
He utterly forgot his own danger in watching such 
a sight as perhaps no human being had seen since 
the dawn of man’s history. 

The first thing he realized was that the water 
beast was not a snake. The head and neck were 
more like those of one of the snapping turtles 
which are common in all tropical waters. The 
neck looked as if cased in loose leather, while the 
head was purely a turtle’s with a wide mouth 
armed with jaws of solid bone. Then he saw, be- 
neath the surface, the body of the monster shaped 
like a monstrous dish-cover and plated with a 
greenish shell. 

The creature’s head flashed this way and that 
in movements so quick that he could hardly follow 
them, while its beak-like jaws kept snapping to- 
gether with a harsh clipping sound. Its eyes, with 


72 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


raised horny lids like those of an alligator, had an 
indescribably vicious gleam. 

Quick as it was, the eagle was quicker. Martin 
could not help admiring the dauntless pluck with 
which she hurled herself against this fearful 
enemy, buffeting the monster with her powerful 
wings and slashing it with her great curved beak. 
Good blows, too, for dark red blood was already 
dripping from the head of the huge fish-liz- 
ard. 

The lizard rose higher in the water, so that its 
vast domed shell came above the surface. Waves 
washed against the hull of the Bat, the reddened 
foam splashing right over the coaming. Its thick 
tail rose, lashing the surface of the lake; and 
Martin felt that a single stroke would be enough 
\o smash his frail craft and sink it. 

Then what chance would he stand, swimming 
for his life in water haunted by such terrors? 

Martin jumped up and pressed the electric 
starter. There was a splitting sound, but nothing 
happened. For some reason unknown, the engine 
refused to fire. 

He set to work with desperate energy to find 
out what was wrong, while the Bat heaved and 
swung upon the swells flung up by the titanic 
struggles of the water monster. At any moment 


BATTLE ROYAL 


73 


the fight might swing down upon him. Or if either 
of the fighters won, the survivor would, he felt, 
be certain to turn upon him. 

Feathers drifted in a shower all over him. The 
lizard had got a blow home. But the eagle was 
not badly damaged, for she fought more furi- 
ously than ever. The reek of musk from the 
water-beast nearly made him sick. The creature 
whirled again, and its thick, stumpy tail actually 
struck the hull of the Bat. He saw it half turn, 
caught the gleam of its wicked eyes, and gave him- 
self up for lost. 

Next moment the roar of a heavy explosion 
sent echoes clattering along the cliffs; Martin 
heard the unmistakable hiss of a charge of heavy 
shot passing close to his head, and at the same 
instant the water-beast went over sideways, floun- 
dering hideously in the blood-stained waves. 

The eagle, startled by the crash, rose a little, 
only to swoop down again at once, striking at her 
adversary with the same fury as ever. 

But the beast was not dead, and next instant up 
it reared again. Out shot its long, scaly neck, and 
struck like a serpent at the eagle. This time the 
horned jaws caught her fairly by the wing. A 
moment later, she, the fish-lizard and all, had van- 
ished into the fathomless depths of the tarn. 


74. MARTIN CRUSOE 

Still breathless with his ordeal, Martin rose to 
his feet. 

“ Thanks be to gracious, you’s safe, boss,” 
came Scipio ’s familiar voice; and there was the 
launch right alongside, the Professor at the tiller, 
Scipio, armed with a heavy ten-bore duck-gun, 
standing in the bows. 

“Thanks to you, Scipio,” answered Martin. 
“But it was touch and go. What was that awful 
creature, Professor?” 

“A plesiosaurus, I believe, Martin,” replied the 
old gentleman gravely. “A reptile belonging to 
the world’s earliest days, and long supposed to be 
extinct, but in some way preserved in this strange 
Corner of the earth. It was a narrow escape in- 
deed, lad. Now, tell me, did you find the 
Lemurian?” 

“I found him,” Martin answered gravely. 
“He is far up the mountain-side. The eagles were 
attacking him. Then they went for me; and I had 
to clear as quickly as ever I could.” 

“Is the man hurt?” 

“Badly, I’m afraid.” 

The Professor looked grave. 

“We must go to his help,” he said. “Scipio, 
throw Mr. Vaile the rope. We will tow the Bat 
in, then start at once up the mountain.” 


BATTLE ROYAL 


75 


When Martin got back into the cave he was 
amazed to find that it was not yet eleven. It 
seemed hours since he had left the cave, yet was 
actually no more than fifty minutes. The Pro- 
fessor insisted on his drinking a cup of coffee. 
Then the three took food, a rope, their guns, and 
a first-aid outfit, and started at once up the steep, 
rocky side of the mountain. 

Pretty soon Martin saw that the Professor was 
breathing hard. He stopped. 

“It’s too much for you, sir,” he said. “You 
wait, and Scipio and I will go on.” 

Al#ne, Scipio and Martin made much quicker 
time; and in about an hour Martin stopped and 
pointed to a ledge overhead. 

“That’s where I left him,” he said in a low 
voice to the negro. 

Scipio pulled up. 

It was a stiff scramble up to the ledge, and the 
last part of the way they had to drag themselves 
up by their hands. 

Martin was the first to get his head above the 
rim of the rugged platform of rock. Scipio, close 
behind, heard him gasp. 

“What’s de matter, boss?” 

“He’s gone!” answered Martin sharply. 
“There isn’t a sign of him.” 


76 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


“Yo’ suah dis de right place, Marse Martin ?” 

‘ ‘ Dead certain, ’ ’ replied Martin. 

“ And de feller was lyin’ heah dead when yo’ 
flew away?” 

“He was lying wounded and insensible. Why, 
there ’s a patch of blood. See ? ’ ’ 

Scipio looked. Sure enough, there was an ugly 
red stain on the dark stone. He grunted uncom- 
fortably. 

“Dey do say dese heah island folk am magic 
men, sah.” 

“Bosh!” retorted Martin impatiently. “The 
man must be quite close. He couldn’t have gone 
far.” 

A small stone rattling down from above made 
both look up sharply. Martin drew a quick 
breath. Well he might, for there, on another 
ledge, ten or twelve feet higher up, was the 
Lemurian himself, looking down upon them. 

He was a magnificent yet terrible figure. Fully 
six feet six inches in height, and splendidly pro- 
portioned, he stood leaning on his sword. His 
helmet gleamed golden in the vertical rays of the 
blazing sun, but the rest of his dress and armor 
were dull and dabbled with blood. His eyes, 
blue as the sky above, were fixed upon the in- 
truders. 


BATTLE ROYAL 77 

For a moment there was complete silence. 
Scipio was the first to speak. 

“Oh, golly, boss!” he gasped. “Yo’ didn’t 
know what yo’ was talking about. Dat man ain’t 
dead at all!” 


CHAPTER IX 


BREAD AND SALT 

Mabtiet paid no attention to Scipio. He stood as 
still as the great Lemurian himself, gazing fixedly 
up at him. 

Then as he stared he noticed that the Lemur- 
ian y s blue eyes were glazed, and realized that the 
man was sorely hurt, and that it was only by 
sheer will-power that he kept his feet at all. Sud- 
denly he Mt desperately sorry for his splendid 
opponent. 

i 1 You poor chap!” he said pitifully; and 
stepped quietly forward. 

The Lemurian, of course, could not understand 
the words that Martin said, but quite clearly he 
did understand the tone in which they were 
spoken. He made no effort to raise his sword, but 
stood quite still. Then just as Martin reached 
him, his giant strength went out of him, he 
slipped down quietly, and collapsed in a heap on 
the rock. 

Martin dropped on his knee beside him, and 
lifted his head. 


78 


BREAD AND SALT 79 

Scipio came up slowly. 

“Yo’ be careful, Marse Martin. For all yo’ 
know, dat fellow is playing ’possum/ ’ 

1 1 Nonsense! He’s half dead. Look at tbe way 
he’s been mauled. Why, he’s lost a quart of 
blood.” 

With Scipio ’s help he managed to drag him out 
of the fierce sun-blaze to the shadow of a deep rock 
shelf, and set about bandaging the wounds. 

There were two ugly gashes in the left arm and 
shoulder, and another in the man’s side. Their 
depth showed the knife-like power of the great 
cliff-eagle ’s beak. In themselves, however, the 
wounds were not dangerous — the real danger lay 
in the loss of blood. 

Martin finished his bandaging. 

* ‘ How in the world shall we ever get him down 
the mountain?” he asked in dismay as he stood 
up and looked at the massive length of limb of his 
patient. 

“I reckon we’ll hab to leab him hyah, boss. 
It’s one suah t’ing dis nigger can’t carry dat 
man.” 

Before Martin could answer the giant opened 
his eyes, and, to Martin’s amazement, sat up. 

“Steady on!” said Martin quickly. “You must 
keep still.” 


80 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


The giant smiled as if he understood, and the 
smile took all the grimness out of his face and 
made him look quite human. He said some words, 
and stretched out his great hand. 

Martin saw that he wanted something, but was 
not quite sure what. The big man pointed to his 
mouth, then Martin understood. 

“Water — that’s what he’s after. Where’s the 
bottle, Scipio?” 

Scipio, who was getting over his nervousness, 
'produced the bottle, and the Lemurian drank 
deeply. 

Martin next opened a parcel of bread and meat. 
At the same time he took out a small packet of 
salt, and offered this to his prisoner. The Lemur- 
ian hesitated, and looked very hard at Martin. 
Then, seemingly satisfied, he took a pinch of salt, 
sprinkled it on a piece of the bread, and began to 
eat. Martin drew a long breath of relief. He 
knew how much bread and salt meant to the 
ancient Norsemen. Now he was sure that he, the 
Professor, and Scipio had nothing more to fear 
from this man. Whatever happened he was their 
friend. 

The Lemurian ate like a starved man. With 
every mouthful his strength came back, and when 
he had finished he looked another man. 


BREAD AND SALT 


81 


Even so, Martin hardly supposed he would he 
able to stand, let alone walk. But he rose easily 
to his feet and pointed downwards, evidently ask- 
ing whether it was not time to start back. 

“Dat fellow’s a libbing wonder, Marse Martin,’ ’ 
observed Scipio. “Yo’ couldn’t kill him wid an 
ax.” 

4 ‘Don’t try, Scipio,” said Martin dryly; and led 
the way downhill. 

A little later he brought him safely into the 
cave. The moment they stepped into the Painted 
Hall the giant pulled up short and looked around 
him. His expression changed, and suddenly he 
dropped on his knees and lowered his head, rais- 
ing his hands with a strange gesture. 

“I thought so.” It was Professor Distin’s 
voice. “This is their holy place. Martin, I con- 
gratulate you on taming the giant. Was he any 
trouble?” 

“None. He took bread and salt.” 

“Excellent. It was clever of you to remember 
that. Then he will be our friend, and I must say” 
— the Professor’s voice was suddenly grave — “I 
am glad of it.” 

“Why do you say that?” asked Martin quickly. 
“Were you afraid of him?” 

“There is something of which I am very much 


82 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


more afraid,” answered the Professor. “I will 
explain at some other time. Now we must get our 
patient to bed.” 

The morning sun, pouring through the tall 
windows of the great cliff room, shone brightly 
on the snowy cloth of the breakfast-table, and on 
the piles of richly colored fruit which were always 
a part of every meal. Martin and the Professor 
had just taken their seats, and Scipio had brought 
in the coffee and the usual dish of deliciously 
grilled fish. 

“How is he, Professor?” asked Martin. 

“Doing very well indeed. He has little fever, 
and his wounds are healing fast. The man has 
the health of a savage together with the build 
and will-power of the Norsemen who were his 
ancestors.” 

“I wish we knew something about him,” said 
Martin. 

“I know quite a good deal already,” replied the 
Professor, with a smile. “I have found out his 
name, which is Akon. And as he is clearly a pure- 
blooded Norseman, I am practically certain that 
he is the son of a chief. And I know how old he 
is. He told me on his fingers. He is twenty- 
four.” 


BREAD AND SALT 


83 


“Pure Norse, is he?” exclaimed Martin. “I 
say, Professor, I wonder if he knows the Nor- 
wegian language?” 

“Impossible!” he answered. “Modern Norse 
is quite different from the language of the days 
when his forefathers landed on Lemuria.” 

“But wait a minute ! Surely I have read some- 
where that they still talk the old language up in 
Iceland. Yes, and that even the children under- 
stand the ancient Sagas, or Songs of the Vikings.” 

The Professor’s face lighted up. 

“Upon my word, I believe you are right,” he 
said. “And, as it happens, I have a copy of the 
Sagas here. They belonged to poor Krieger. I shall 
try the experiment immediately after breakfast.” 

The meal finished, he bustled off to where Akon 
was lying in bed, and it was nearly an hour be- 
fore he came back. 

“You were right, Martin!” he burst out. “He 
does understand. Of course, he cannot read ; and 
as for me, I know very little of the language. 
But you should have seen his face light up when 
I read to him! He took it all in. We shall be all 
right now,” he went on. “Within a very short 
time w T e shall be able to understand one another; 
and I shall learn more about this extraordinary 
island.” 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


84 

He was tremendously pleased and happy about 
it all; but Martin still had in his mind the memory 
of the old gentleman’s grave face the previous 
afternoon, when he had spoken of some 
mysterious danger which seemed to threaten 
them. 

“How about the other man?” he asked. 

“His name is Thur,” the Professor told him. 
“I got that out of Akon. Thur has got his senses 
back, but he is not fit to move. I think we can 
safely leave him and Akon in Scipio’s care while I 
show you our dynamos.” 

“I’m awfully keen to see them,” declared 
Martin, as he followed the Professor out of the 
room. 

The latter led the way down a passage cut, like 
the rest of the cave dwelling, in the living rock, 
and lit, like the rest, by electricity. As they came 
near a door he heard the deep, low roar of falling 
water. 

The Professor opened the door, and the roar 
became deafening. He touched a switch, and a 
great glow of white light shone upon a solid 
column of shining black water which came plung- 
ing down through the roof, driving the turbine 
which was set in the opening beneath, then dis- 
appearing through an opening in the floor. 


BREAD AND SALT 


85 


“All the power we want,” shouted the Profes- 
sor in Martin’s ear. “And the beauty of it is that 
we found the fall just as it is now after we came 
here.” 

“Then all that power has been wasting for hun- 
dreds of years,” said Martin. 

“Thousands perhaps,” replied the Professor. 
‘ 1 Though, mind you, I believe the ancient folk who 
cut this cave and the flume through which the 
water comes must have done so with a purpose. 
They may have used it for a mill, or for all we 
know they understood electricity as well as we 
do.” 

“And here the water will go on running for 
thousands of years more,” said Martin. 

“I am not so sure about that,” began the Pro- 
fessor, then stopped short. For as he spoke the 
solid rock beneath their feet seemed to heave and 
sway, and down below was a rumbling deep and 
hoarse, like the passing of hundreds of heavily 
loaded wagons. 

Martin clutched at the cold, wet wall of the cave 
for support. 

“What is it?” he gasped. 

“An earthquake,” answered the Professor, 
who was also clinging to the wall. 

Again the whole cave swayed dizzily. The mo- 


86 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


tion was like that of a slow swell, the floor rising 
and falling beneath their feet. Martin felt sick 
and dizzy. 

It passed, and the growling rumble died in the 
distance. 

Dead silence followed. 

“Look!” muttered Martin — “look! The 

stream has stopped!” 

It had. Just as if a tap had been turned off, 
the waterfall had vanished. 

“The bank has fallen in above,” said the Pro- 
fessor. “We must see to it at once, or we shall be 
left in darkness. Martin,” he added, “that was a 
bad shock.” 

“Do you have them often?” asked Martin. 

“Pretty frequently, but as a rule only slight 
tremors. Of late they have been getting worse. 
That, Martin, is part of the danger of which I 
spoke to you.” 

He paused, and his face was very grave. 

1 1 That decides me, ’ ’ he continued. ‘ ‘ As soon as 
possible I will take you across the lake. Then 
you can judge for yourself the peril that confronts 
us. Now we must go and find where the stream 
is dammed.” 

Outside was Scipio, looking badly scared. 

“My golly, boss, dat was the worse one yet! I 


BREAD AND SALT 87 

reckoned de roof was a-coming down on our 
heads.” 

“Any damage done?” asked the Professor. 

Scipio shook his woolly head. 

“Broke a whole heap of crockery, sah. And 
dere ain’t no shops heah whar we kin buy cups 
and saucers.” 

“I dare say we shall have enough to last us,” 
said the Professor, with a smile. “The worst of 
it is that it has cut off our water, Scipio. You 
had better get some dynamite and go up with 
Mr. Yaile and see to it.” 

Martin and Scipio found that the block was 
caused by a great boulder which had rolled into 
the bed of the brook. But before they reached it, 
the water had risen above it, and was pouring 
over. So, as there was no need to do anything, 
'they came straight back. 

“Yes; the water began to flow again almost as 
soon as you had started,” said the Professor. 
“Very well, Martin, I will keep my promise, and 
as soon as we have had some luncheon, we will 
take the launch and cross the lake. I think I 
shall be able to show you something that you will 
never forget till your dying day.” 


CHAPTER X 


THE LAKE OF FIRE 

Professor Distin was silent as the launch went 
rushing across the lake. As for Martin, he, too, 
sat without speaking, watching the long trail of 
white foam which spread away across the dark- 
blue water of the deep tarn. 

The launch slid in under the shadow of the tall 
cliffs opposite. It was getting well on in the 
afternoon, and the sun was low. Martin looked 
up at the towering walls of rock and at the great 
peak above. He noticed the thin cloud of smoke 
which rose from the flank of the volcano, and 
began to feel curious as to the object of their trip 
and the nature of the Professor’s warning. 

But the Professor said nothing. He sat very 
still, steering the launch straight in towards the 
foot of the tall precipice that bounded the 
lake. 

Just as it seemed as though they were going 
to run hard against the cliff, Martin saw an open- 
ing, and presently they were in a deep narrow 
fiord similar to those which Martin had already 
88 


THE LAKE OF FIRE 


89 


seen on the other side of the lake. This one, how- 
ever, was longer and deeper than any which 
Martin had seen, and its sides were so lofty that 
the cliffs seemed almost to meet overhead. They 
cut off the light, so that the calm water at the 
bottom looked like dark-green glass. There was 
no sign of life in the gloomy place. 

The Professor kept straight up the center of 
the fiord. It curved to the right, and as the launch 
rounded the bend Martin became aware that there 
was a beach in front, and, beyond it, a long rough 
slope running steeply upwards. 

The Professor stopped the motor. The launch, 
glided gently up to the beach and grounded quietly 
on soft, dark-looking shingle. 

‘ ‘We get out here,” said the Professor. 

Martin followed him up the slope. It was rough 
walking, and at every step their feet sank ankle 
deep into soft, dark, powdery shale. 

* ‘Looks like ash,” said Martin under his breath. 

“It is ash,” answered the Professor in an 
equally low voice. 

Every now and then he was forced to stop and 
take breath. At last they left the ash slope and 
got on to a narrow ledge-like path running along 
the face of the cliff which rose to the right. 

And now Martin became aware of a curious 


90 MARTIN CRUSOE 

slow sound. It was like the bubbling of a giant 
kettle. Every now and then there was a sharp 
snap almost like the bursting of a bicycle tire. 

The Professor stopped and took something out 
of his pocket which he unfolded and handed to 
Martin. It was a kind of mask. 

“Put it on,” said the Professor. “If the 
draught draws down the cleft the fumes are some- 
times very bad.” 

He showed Martin how to tie it on, then donned 
one himself. It gave him the oddest appearance, 
but, all the same, Martin did not feel like laugh- 
ing. The Professor’s looks and tone made him 
feel sure that this business was something really 
serious. 

The ledge, if narrow, was better than the ash 
slope. They got on more quickly. But as they 
moved forward the bubbling sound grew louder 
and whiffs of sulphurous gas met them. In spite 
of the mask they caught Martin’s throat and nos- 
trils and made him choke. 

In half an hour they had climbed several hun- 
dred feet above the water-level. The cleft was 
still as narrow as ever and its coal-black walls still 
towered high overhead. As Martin looked up it 
struck him that it had not been long made. The 
rocks were very little worn by weather, and there 


THE LAKE OF FIRE 91 

was not a blade of grass or any green thing to 
be seen. 

Meantime the bubbling grew louder and louder, 
and presently Martin saw that they were getting 
to the end of the gorge, which seemed to break off 
abruptly. The Professor turned and signed to 
Martin to go quietly. Then he himself w T ent cau- 
'tiously forward. 

Presently he stopped, and beckoned Martin to 
come up. Martin did so, and a moment later 
found himself standing on the very rim of an 
immense bowl of rock and looking down into a 
sea of fire. 

Although the sounds he had heard had pre- 
pared him for something of the sort, the grandeur 
and horror of the sight left him speechless. AH 
he could do was to stand on that tremendous verge 
and stare down dumbly into the awful cauldron 
that yawned beneath. 

The crater was about a third of a mile across, 
the sides were of dark volcanic rock broken by 
great spurs, and at the bottom, some three or four 
hundred feet beneath the rim rock, there heaved 
and bubbled a lake of lava. In the center, where 
the molten stuff bubbled up, the glow was so in- 
tense it hurt the eyes to look at it. Nearer the 
edges the stuff was cherry red. But none of the 


92 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


surface was at rest, even for a moment. All of 
it boiled and seethed like a cauldron hung over a 
hot fire. Every moment great bubbles rose, swell- 
ing six or eight feet high and perhaps twenty 
across. These, as they burst and fell, produced 
the popping noises which he had heard. 

The whole surface smoked constantly, but the 
fierce heat rising from the molten mass carried up 
the smoke with it, so that the surface of the burn- 
ing lake was very little hidden by the vapors of 
its burning. The spot they stood upon was at 
the bottom of a gap in the crater rim. Every- 
where else the black cliffs towered up two or three 
thousand feet. 

The sight was a terrible one, yet so fascinating 
that Martin could not take his eyes off it. He was 
roused at last by the Professor’s voice, and saw 
that he had drawn back a little and removed his 
mask. 

“What do you think of it, Martin?” 

“It’s the most wonderful sight I ever saw,” de- 
clared Martin. 

“Yes, but does nothing else occur to you?” 

Martin looked around, and stared up at the 
huge walls of the crater. 

“Yes,” he said. “I had no idea that a crater 
could be so deep.” 


THE LAKE OF FIRE 


93 


The Professor nodded. 

“Ah,” he said, “that is what I meant. If yon 
will look again yon will realize that the surface 
of the lava is very little above that of the lake 
outside. Now do yon realize the danger?” 

Martin drew a long breath. In a moment the 
real extent of the peril flashed across him. 

“Krakatoa,” he breathed. 

“Exactly. I see yon understand. That tre- 
mendous explosion, the greatest ever known in 
the history of volcanic eruptions, was caused by 
the sea bursting in upon a vast mass of molten 
lava. The result was that thousands of tons of 
water were instantly turned to steam. Two-thirds 
of an island nearly as large as this were blown 
into the air, three hundred villages were de- 
stroyed, the wave thrown up washed all round the 
world, and the sound of the explosion was heard 
three thousand miles away. As for the dust, it 
hung in the upper atmosphere for three years.” 

“And you think that may happen here?” 
gasped Martin. 

“It will happen sooner or later,” replied the 
Professor, with deadly certainty. “This rift has 
been formed within the last century, and even 
within my recollection is deeper and wider than 
it used to be. The increasing severity of the 


94 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


earthquakes proves that the subtatrranean dis- 
turbances are increasing.’ ’ 

Martin whistled softly. 

4 4 Then we are living on a boiler with the safety 
valve screwed down. Strikes me that we had best 
quit as soon as possible,” he said. 

4 4 Yes,” said the Professor. 44 I am afraid that 
is the case.” He paused, and shook his head. 

4 4 Martin, I am fond of this place. I had hoped 
to end my days here. But I have come to think 
that, old as I am, the catastrophe may occur be- 
fore I am due to go out of this life. Yet I am most 
anxious to solve the problem of Lemuria and of 
its people. And if it be possible, I would wish 
to visit the other island before I return to the 
world of men.” 

4 4 I’ll take~you there, sir,” declared Martin 
stoutly. 4 4 Just wait until we’ve made Akon un- 
derstand what we are after. Then I’ll take him 
over in the Bat and come back for you. With 
Akon to help us, it will all be plain sailing.” 

4 4 Indeed, I hope it may be,” said the Professor 
earnestly. 4 4 And now, Martin, if you have seen 
enough, let us get back. These vapors and the 
heat try my old throat and lungs sorely.” 

Next day Martin was up early and at work re- 
pairing the Bat, the planes of which had been 


A 


THE LAKE OF FIRE 


95 


badly ripped by the talons of the cliff eagles. The 
Professor meanwhile was with Akon, reading to 
him the Icelandic Sagas, and doing his best to 
master the language himself. 

The days went by quickly. When Martin had 
finished the repairs of the Bat, he busied himself 
in the garden, and in the evenings he worked at 
the Norse language. Akon, now quite himself 
again, was free to go where he liked; and it 
amused Martin to show him the turbines, the elec- 
tric light, and other scientific apparatus. 

The Bat was Akon’s principal source of wonder.. 
He would go and stand by it and stare at it for 
minutes at a time, but never offer to touch it. 
The launch itself puzzled him a good deal, but 
he was able to understand that the screw drove 
it, though how the screw was made to work by the 
oil engine was a mystery to him. 

Thur, the other Lemurian, was still unable to do 
much. He was a silent person, rather stupid, and 
evidently stood in awe of Akon. 

One evening, when Martin came in, he found 
the Professor waiting for him. 

4 4 Martin,” said the old gentleman quickly, 44 I 
was right. Akon is the son of the King of Le- 
muria. He made me understand that today. 
What is more, he says that his people will cer- 


96 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


tainly come after him. I gather that they have a 
considerable fleet of long-ships, and will probably 
come in force.’ ’ 

“They’ve been long enough about it,” replied 
Martin. 

“That to me makes matters look the worse,” 
declared the Professor. “It means that they are 
making great preparations. And if a large force 
were to invade us I do not see what we could do. 
I do not like the prospect at all.” 

Martin considered a moment. 

“Tell you what, Professor,” he said. “I’ll go 
and see. Tomorrow I will take the Bat and fly 
to Lemuria, and bring back word of what is hap- 
pening.” 

The Professor nodded. 

1 Very well, my lad. But come back as quickly 
as you can. ’ ’ 

The Bat was in first-rate order, and when, true 
to his promise, Martin started out soon after day- 
light next morning, he found her great twin en- 
gines working to perfection. He taxied out to the 
middle of the lake, then rose and, circling upwards 
until he got his height, headed due west for the 
mysterious island. 

It was another wonderful day, so calm that the 
smoke from the volcano rose straight into the 


THE LAKE OF FIRE 


97 


azure sky, spreading out into a kind of parasol at 
an enormous height. Beneath, the ocean lay like 
silk. There was very little weed in the waters 
which separated Lost Island from Lemuria, but 
out on the rim of the horizon the brown stuff lay 
in long dark ribs across the peaceful blue. 

Very swiftly Lemuria leaped into view. It was, 
Martin saw, a larger but less mountainous land 
than Lost Island. But before he was near enough 
to examine any details a number of dark spots 
stretched in a long line across the sea caught his 
attention. From his dizzy height they looked no 
larger than water-beetles, but it did not need a 
second glance to tell him what they were. 

The Lemurian fleet had already put to sea. Be- 
fore night the long-ships would be upon Lost 
Island. 


CHAPTER XI 
AKON’S DECISION 


Five — ten — fifteen — there were no fewer than 
eighteen of the long-ships in the Lemurian fleet, 
and since each carried sixty to eighty men, here 
was a most formidable force. 

The enemy must be stopped— stopped at any 
cost, and as far as Martin could see there was only 
one way to do it. Round he swung, banking 
steeply, and went tearing back towards Lost 
Island. 

Less than half an hour after starting, the Bat 
dropped again toward the sea lake, and lit 
smoothly on its mirror-like surface. 

The launch was alongside almost as soon as it 
had alighted, and Professor Distin was anxiously 
asking what had brought him back so quickly. 

As Martin explained a look of dismay crossed 
'the Professor’s face. 

‘ ‘ Eighteen ships ! ” he repeated. ‘ ‘ But, Martin, 
this is an army. What are we to do? ” 

“There is only one thing to do,” Martin an- 
swered firmly. “Akon must come back with me, 
98 


AEON’S DECISION 


99 


meet his people, and tell them exactly how things 
stand. They will listen to him.” 

, Akon was in the launch with the Professor. 
The fair-haired giant was listening eagerly, but, 
of course, without understanding what was said. 
Yet it was plain from his face that he realized 
something to he seriously wrong. 

The Professor rapidly explained the situation; 
and Martin, watching, saw a curious expression 
cross the big man’s face, but he listened without 
speaking until the Professor had finished, then 
answered in a few blunt words. 

The Professor gave a sigh of relief. 

“He will go with you, Martin,” he said. “But 
he is not quite happy. There is something he does 
not like about the business, but what he does not 
say.” 

“He’s too modest,” Martin answered with a 
laugh. ‘ 4 Come, Akon. ’ 9 

Akon rose and stepped cautiously into the hull 
of the Bat. His lips were set very tight, and there 
was a curious glint in his pale-blue eyes. Akon 
had always a sort of superstitious dread of the 
flying boat, and this was the first time he had ever 
been aboard her. 

But the fine old Viking strain in him forbade 
him to show the slightest sign of fear, and he 


100 MARTIN CRUSOE 

took his seat as calmly as if he had been flying 
all his life. 

4 ‘ Good luck to you both!” cried the Professor, 
then his voice was drowned in the roar of the twin 
engines as ' Martin switched on, and, gliding 
swiftly across the water, rose for the second time. 

For the moment he was too busy with the con- 
trols to look back, but when he had got his height 
and was able to turn, Akon was sitting like a 
chunk of marble and with just about as much ex- 
pression on his big, handsome face. 

“Cheer up,” cried Martin, speaking in Norse, 
of which he had now learnt nearly as much as the 
Professor himself. “We are quite safe. There 
are the ships.” 

Akon did not answer. The fierce rush through 
the air seemed to have taken his breath. But he 
saw the ships and his eyes brightened. 

To Martin it seemed that the fleet had hardly 
moved since he had first sighted it. As a matter 
of fact, it was coming up steadily before a light 
westerly breeze. But as Martin stooped towards 
it he noticed that the smoke from the volcano, 
which twenty minutes earlier had been rising 
straight into the sky, was now trailing out in a 
sou '-westerly direction. The upper current of 
air had changed right round; and short as had 


AKON’S DECISION 


101 


been his stay on Lost Island, Martin had a pretty 
good idea what that meant. 

But there was no time to say anything now. 
Every instant the long-ships grew nearer, and in 
a few moments the Bat was above them. 

Looking down, Martin thought they looked 
exactly like those water beetles that go paddling 
around on a pond. Their long oars sprawled out 
on either side like the legs of those insects. The 
Lemurians saw him, too, for many stopped row- 
ing, and the fleet fell out of line and became con- 
fused. 

Martin cut out his engines and began to glide 
downwards. 

“Akon,” he said, “when we get down, you 
talk.” 

Akon nodded grimly. The Bat planed steeply, 
and within a few seconds swept over the mast- 
head of the leading ship, and came to rest sweetly 
as a dropping gull on the silken swells, close to 
the long, low hull of the Lemurian flag-ship. 

With one accord, every man in the long-ship 
stopped rowing, and from behind the golden 
shields that lined the bulwarks scores of heads 
rose and stared in silent, breathless amazement 
at the graceful fabric which had descended upon 
them out of the blue. 


102 MARTIN CRUSOE 

Akon rose to his full height. His great voice 
thundered out ! 

He was not speaking Norse now. This was the 
true Lemurian language. But if Martin could not 
understand the words, there could be no doubt 
what Akon was saying. He was taunting his 
people for cowards for bringing hundreds of men 
against three, and ordering them to return. Next 
he pointed with his right hand to his own side, 
then to Martin, and Martin grew red as he 
guessed that Akon was telling them of his rescue 
from the eagles. 

He stopped and the next moment a figure rose 
on the foredeck of the long-ship — a man as tall as 
Akon himself and even broader. In a flash Martin 
recognized the fierce face, steely eyes, and tusk- 
like teeth of Odan, the great savage who had cap- 
tured him in the first invasion. 

Odan was furiously angry as he addressed 
Akon. When he stopped, Akon stooped and spoke 
briefly to Martin. 

“He says you are a wizard, and that I am a 
friend of wizards,” he explained. “But wait. I 
am their prince — son of their king. They shall 
obey me, not Odan.” 

He lifted his voice again, and it rang out clear 
and strong, reaching every one of the hundreds 


AKON’S DECISION 


103 


in the fleet. When Akon paused, a hoarse roar of 
cheering broke out. Martin glowed. He felt that 
Akon had won the day. 

But Odan was not done yet. Up he sprang 
again, and began to urge something fiercely on his 
hearers. 

“He says that you have prevented them from 
using 'the holy place,” explained Akon briefly; 
“that you must leave the island. But wait! I 
will return to Lemuria and explain all to my 
father, the king.” 

He paused a moment. 

“Will you take me there?” he asked suddenly. 

Martin did not hesitate a moment. 

“I will,” he answered. 

As the Bat rose swiftly from the sea Martin, 
glancing downwards, saw hundreds of faces 
raised towards her, hundreds of pairs of eyes 
watching the great flying machine with awe which 
was almost terror. 

But discipline was strong. Next moment the 
oars lashed the water. Each ship turned and 
made back towards Lemuria. 

Martin heaved a sigh of relief. Then, turning, 
he glanced back. It was as he had expected. Up 
in the north-east the blue sky was smudged with 
purple-black cloud— a cloud that grew fast and 


104 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


was edged with a rim of snow-white vapor rolling 
over and over like foam at the edge of a stormy 
sea. 

He pointed it out to Akon. 

1 ‘Bad for your ships / ’ he said; and Akon 
nodded gravely. 

Martin opened his throttle wide and sent the 
Bat skirling through the air. Within ten minutes 
the Lemurian fleet had dwindled to dots in the 
distance, while Lemuria’s sandy beaches stretched 
wide across the western sea. Martin tingled with 
excitement. In a few moments he would set foot 
in the land of mystery. 

“ Where can we come down?” he asked of his 
companion. 

Akon pointed, and Martin saw blue water lying 
inland. It was a harbor connected by a long inlet 
with the sea. 

The sun still shone brilliantly, though in the 
east the great cloud was blotting out the blue. 
Martin grew anxious. At all costs he must get 
the Bat under cover of some sort before the storm 
broke. 

A few moments later and they were over the 
land. 

He cut out, and came sweeping soundlessly 
downwards towards the lake. Now he could see 


AKON’S DECISION 


105 


that there was a town alongside the harbor. The 
houses were the strangest he had ever dreamed of. 
They were one-storied buildings with great domed 
roofs, and built of enormous stones. On a hill in 
the center rose one building much higher than the 
rest, the roof of which shone with a dazzling yel- 
low splendor. Martini eyes widened as he saw 
it was covered all over with gold. 

There was little time to look about. The Bat 
took the water close to a solid-looking stone quay 
that fronted the harbor. 

Martin turned to Akon. 

“Storm coming,’ ’ he said. “Where can we put 
her?” 

Akon pointed to a building facing the harbor. 
Martin taxied across towards it, and found it to be 
n large boathouse. A great barge, gorgeously 
painted and gilded, lay there, blocking the way; 
but Akon, stepping out of the Bat’s hull on to the 
barge’s stern, pushed her to one side, leaving just 
room for the flying boat. 

Martin tied the Bat up firmly. He was only 
too grateful to have her under cover. Then Akon 
beckoned, and Martin followed up a flight of broad 
stone steps on to the quay. ‘ 

Not a soul was in sight. Everyone had bolted 
into their houses. The broad quay lay silent and 


106 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


deserted in the glaring sunlight. But though the 
sun still blazed down, the velvet pall was rising 
steadily in the east, and the sultry air tingled with 
the threat of the coming storm. 

Akon led the way towards the tall building, 
which stood by itself on rising ground. He 
walked with long strides, and held his head 
proudly. Martin, staring about him, saw that the 
houses were built of a curious dark-red stone, and 
that the door-posts, each made of one huge slab, 
were carved with figures reminding him of the 
Egyptian room in the British Museum. All these 
buildings seemed to be of immense age. Indeed, 
they were so massive and solid that nothing short 
of an earthquake could have destroyed them. 

The strangest thing about the place was the 
silence. There must have been scores of people 
within earshot, yet not a face showed from a door- 
way or window; there was no sound or sign of life. 

“ What's up?” asked Martin; but Akon walked 
straight on, straight up a broad flight of shallow 
steps leading to the gold-roofed temple. Huge 
statues with the bodies of men and heads of beasts 
lined the steps. They seemed to glare sternly 
at Martin. The steps led right up to the face of 
the monstrous building which towered above 
them; and as they climbed Martin saw, to his 


AKON’S DECISION 107 

astonishment, that there was no door. Sheer 
blank wall faced them inhospitably. 

Martin’s heart began to beat uncomfortably. 
There was something uncanny about the whole 
place. 

Akon, however, strode on undismayed, and, 
reaching the wide landing at the top, stamped 
•twice with his heavy foot, then stood silent. 

Martin stood close behind him, wondering what 
was going to happen. He had not long to wait. 
A dark slit appeared in the wall; two vast slabs 
slid silently back, and in the opening appeared as 
strange a figure as mortal eyes had ever rested 
upon. 


CHAPTER Xn 


THE PRIEST’S PLAN 

The man who stood in the opening was not more 
than five feet six in height, but looked even less, 
owing to his enormous breadth. His chest and 
shoulders were those of a giant.’ 

Of his face Martin could see nothing, for it 
was covered with a thin golden mask from which 
stood out all around curved rays of beaten gold. 
He was dressed in a sleeved robe of silken fabric 
of gorgeous purple. On the breast was embroid- 
ered a great golden sun, while sleeves and skirt 
were ornamented with patterns made of some yel- 
low shining stone cut in thin disks. Martin knew 
at once that this was a priest of the sun. 

Through holes in the mask a pair of keen blue 
eyes regarded Akon and Martin. 

For a moment there was dead silence. Then, 
with a quickness startling in so massive a figure, 
the priest turned and beckoned them to follow. 
They stepped into a lofty passage floored anjl 
walled with massive slabs of smooth, reddish 
stone; and the moment they were inside their host 
108 



^ 




•V* <- 


The sight was at once splendid and terrible 
















































THE PRIEST’S PLAN 


109 


pulled over a lever, and the huge leaves of the 
stone door closed like the jaws of a trap. 

The door was hardly shut before the priest had 
caught Akon by both hands, crying out a greeting 
in a voice that rumbled like thunder down the 
vaulted passage. 

Akon returned the greeting most heartily, 
then, stretching out his great arm, drew Mar- 
tin forward, and, speaking in Norse, introduced 
him. 

“ He is my friend, Hymer,” he said. “He has 
saved my life. Harm must not come to him.” 

Hymer, the priest, took Martin’s hand. 

“Your friends, Prince Akon, are mine,” he 
said, and he, too, spoke in Norse, and spoke so 
clearly that Martin had no difficulty in under- 
standing him. “But come into my room,” he 
said. “I have much to tell you.” 

Opening a door he led them into a large room 
with painted walls. There was a rich carpet on 
the floor; but the only furniture was a low, round 
table and a number of large cushions scattered 
about. The place w T as lighted from above by a 
sort of skylight glazed with sheets of talc. 

The first thing the priest did was to take off his 
golden mask and fling it aside. 

‘ ‘ Bah ! ” he said impatiently. “Iam sick of this 


110 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


mummery.’ ’ Then he dropped on a cushion and 
signed to the others to be seated. 

“Now, Prince,” he said, “tell your story, for 
time presses, and there is much to do.” 

Akon plunged at once into his story, and Hymer 
listened with keen interest. Martin, looking at 
him, saw that he was, like Akon, a Norseman. He 
appeared to he about sixty, but was still im- 
mensely fit and strong; also, he seemed to be miles 
ahead in brain power of any of the rest of the 
Lemurians. For one thing, he was not in the least 
surprised to hear of the flying machine or the 
“boat that goes without oars or sail,” as Akon 
described the launch. 

When Akon had finished Hymer nodded 
gravely. 

“You have returned in the nick of time,” he 
said. “Your father has been dangerously ill.” 

Akon sprang up, but the priest raised his hand. 

“There is no longer need for anxiety on that 
score, Prince. The King is out of danger, and 
you shall see him presently. The trouble is this. 
While he was ill and while I was engaged in tend- 
ing him and preventing those fool doctors from 
poisoning him with their drugs, Odan has been 
at his old game. He has been raising the brown 
men against us.” 


THE PRIEST’S PLAN 


111 


“The dog!” growled Akon, and there was a 
glare in his eyes that was new to Martin. 

“Dog he was born: dog he will die,” said 
Hymer. ‘ 1 But if we, too, are not to die the death 
of dogs, we must act, and act quickly. The truth 
is, Prince, that Odan both hates and fears me. 
He knows that I have done away with the old 
rites — the burnings and the rest. He knows that 
the King, your father, is on my side, and that 
you are my pupil. Therefore he dares to pit him- 
self against me.” 

“What forces has he?” demanded Akon. 

“More than we have,” was the grim reply. 
“The brown men are fools. They are filled 
with the old superstitions. They will follow 
him.” 

“Then what do you advise?” asked Akon 
quickly. 

The priest pointed to Martin. 

“Our hope lies there,” he answered. “The 
boat that flies, the tubes that shoot lead, and the 
rest of the wonders from the East.” 

Martin flushed. 

“B-but there are only two of us,” lie stam- 
mered — “myself and the Professor.” 

“It is not numbers that count,” replied Hymer 
gravely. “These brown men, the descendants of 


112 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


the old people, are full of strange fears and super- 
stitions. Already the sight of men flying has 
driven terror into their hearts, and they have hid- 
den themselves in their houses. You will return 
to the Island of Fire and bring back the guns of 
which Akon speaks. With these you can strike 
terror from the sky. But you must go at once, 
or it will be too late.” 

Martin sprang to his feet. There was an eager 
gleam in his eyes. At that very moment a blaze 
of white light illuminated the room, and there was 
a crash so tremendous that the whole massive 
building quivered. Then darkness fell like night, 
the heavens opened, and cataracts of rain roared 
upon the roof. 

Martin gave a low whistle of dismay. 

4 4 That puts the hat on it!” he muttered. Then, 
seeing the puzzled look on the faces of the others, 
“I mean,” he explained, “that I cannot fly back 
until Ihe storm is over.” 

The priest shook his head. “That is bad,” he 
said. “Haste means everything in this case.” 

“You forget,” put in Akon quickly. “The 
storm will also delay the return of the fleet.” 

“For a little, perhaps,” replied Hymer gravely. 
“But there is no wind to hinder them. They will 
be in before nightfall.” 


THE PRIEST’S PLAN 113 

“How long do these storms last?” asked 
Martin. 

“An hour — two perhaps,” answered the priest. 

Martin’s face cleared. “Then do not worry. 
It is not yet mid-day, and I can go and return 
within three hours.” 

Hymer raised his shaggy eyebrows. “That is 
great speed,” he said. 

“The flying boat moves more quickly than the 
wind, priest,” Akon answered him. “No bird 
flies so swiftly. 

“And as my friend cannot return until the 
storm ceases,” he added, “I beg you to take me 
to my father.” 

The priest rose. “That is well said. I know 
that the King wishes greatly to see you.” 

He led the way to the door. Martin stood aside, 
but Akon took him gently by the arm. ‘ 1 My father 
will wish to thank you in person for your good- 
ness to his son,” he told him. 

It was a relief to leave the priest’s room. The 
roar of the tropical rain upon the roof window 
was deafening, the constant glare of the electric 
fire blinding in its intensity, while the crackle of 
thunder never ceased. Outside in the passage 
these sounds were deadened. But as they moved 
down the long stone- walled corridor, a new sound 


114 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


reached Martin’s ears — a strange whistling, a 
note resembling the escape of steam from the 
boiler of a railway engine, but infinitely deeper 
and more powerful. 

This grew steadily louder and louder until the 
whole place seemed to vibrate with the tremen- 
dous note of it. Martin could not imagine what 
caused it, but even the sound did not prepare him 
for the amazing sight which presently burst upon 
his eyes. 

Iiymer opened a door, and suddenly they stood 
upon a broad gallery which ran all round a vast 
circular pit, or arena, the bottom of which was, 
perhaps, & hundred feet beneath them. And from 
the center of this pit rose a blue flame roaring 
upwards, exactly like one of those blow lamps 
used by plumbers, only with a force and fury that 
were almost incredible. 

The pit was open to the outer air, and seemed 
to be roofed by the blue-black thunder cloud. Yet 
so tremendous was the force of the flame that the 
rain, falling though it was in solid sheets, made no 
more difference to it than a summer shower would 
to a blast furnace. 

Martin stopped short. “ Natural gas !” he said. 

“It is the fire fountain,” said Akon simply. 
“ It has burnt always. It will burn for ever. The 


THE PRIEST’S PLAN 115 

brown folk believe it to be the breath of God.” 

He hurried on; and Martin, though he longed 
to stop, had to follow. The gallery was roofed, so 
they were safe from the rain. Right across they 
went to the far side, and through another door 
guarded by two gold-helmeted sentries. 

“This is the house of the King,” said Akon; 
and indeed Martin could well believe it. The 
beauty of the place fairly took his breath. Won- 
derful furniture, carved in. a jet-black wood like 
ebony, and set with ivory and gold; statues, life- 
size, and molded apparently in solid gold; skins of 
strange beasts lay underfoot ; the hangings of the 
walls were of the same rich purple as the priest’s 
robe. 

Akon saw Martin staring at these beauties. He 
shrugged his great shoulders. 

“Children’s toys,” he said scornfully; “but 
needful to impress these foolish folk over whom 
we rule.” 

Martin thought to himself that one or two of 
these toys would make all the difference to the 
poor people who had been ruined by his father’s 
scoundrelly partner Willard, but, before he could 
speak, the priest struck with his hand upon a tall 
door. It opened, and a grave, elderly man beck- 
oned them to enter. 


116 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


The room was of great size and very high and 
airy. It was lighted by lamps burning a perfumed 
oil. But Martin had no eyes for anything or any- 
one except for the splendid old man who lay back 
in a great chair opposite. He was tall as Akon 
himself, but his thick hair was white as snow, his 
cheeks were wrinkled, and his hands gnarled. 
Only his eyes, blue as the sea, were still clear and 
keen. 

At sight of Akon his face lit up. As for Akon, 
he was across the room in three strides, and 
father and son seized one another’s hands. It did 
Martin good to watch the delight they took in 
meeting again. There was nothing of king and 
prince about it. The two might have been just 
simple commoners instead of rulers over this won- 
derful island and its ancient people. 

Then Akon beckoned Martin to come up, and 
again said such nice things about him that the 
boy’s ears burned. 

“He is going to help us,” Akon told his father. 
“He will bring the wisdom of the East to defeat 
Odan.” 

The king began to question Martin. He was as 
eager as Akon himself. Like Akon, he believed 
that the Bat was enough in itself to turn the scale 
against Odan and his rebels. 


THE PRIEST’S PLAN 


117 


“But I must have guns, sir,” said Martin. 
“We have a machine-gun at the island and plenty 
of ammunition. And I will bring some bombs, too 
— fire-balls that will explode as they strike the 
earth,” he explained. 

Hymer suddenly interrupted. “Pardon, King,” 
he said in his deep voice. “The storm is over. 
The youth should be returning.” 

Martin turned quickly. “You are right. I 
must go at once if I am to be back before night. ’ ’ 

“Go, and fortune be with you,” said the King. 
“Akon, attend our friend to his flying ship.” 

They hurried out. The storm had passed, roar- 
ing, to the west. The sun shone hotly on the 
steaming soil. Then, as they gained the open, 
Akon started, while an angry growl came from 
Hymer ’s throat. 

There was good reason for their dismay. The 
fleet was already in the harbor, and Odan’s great 
longship mooring opposite to the boat-house in 
which lay the Bat. 


CHAPTER Xin 


THE CHANCE PASSES 

Martin did not hesitate a second. He made a 
rush down the broad staircase. 

Out shot Akon’s great hand to stop him, but, 
long as his arm was, it failed to reach the boy. 
His one idea was to reach the boat house and save 
his beloved plane before it fell into the clutches 
of Odan and his crew. 

He heard Hymer the priest growl out a curt 
order, and was conscious in a vague sort of way 
that Prince Akon was at his heels. He even heard 
Akon shout to him to stop, yet paid no attention. 
There was no room in his mind for anything but 
the peril which threatened the Bat. 

Next moment he was on the wharf, and, taking 
the steps in two jumps reached the float beside 
which lay the Bat. As he stooped to cast off the 
ropes which moored her bow and stern he heard 
Odan’s great roaring voice bellowing out orders. 
Though he could not understand what was said he 
had little doubt of its meaning. He worked with 
feverish haste, but, quick as he was, before he had 
118 


THE CHANCE PASSES 


119 


the second rope unfastened a boat bumped hard 
against the outer end of the float, and men came 
leaping off her on to the King’s barge which lay 
longside the plane. 

Martin realized that his chance had passed. 
Straightening himself swiftly, he sprang back 
against the wall and drew his automatic. 

‘ 4 Come on, the lot of you!” he shouted. 

Four men were almost on him. But they were 
not Norse; these were smaller men, with brown 
faces and dark eyes. They wore no armor, and 
carried spears, not swords. They had not the 
pluck of the Norsemen either, or perhaps it was 
superstition on their part that kept them from 
coming to close quarters. Anyhow, they stopped 
short, and stood in a semi-circle around Martin. 

Again came Odan’s bellow, then he himself 
leaped upon the float, making it surge beneath his 
ponderous weight. His chill blue eyes blazed with 
anger, and his short, straight sword was raised 
high above Martin’s head. 

Quick as a flash Martin flung up his pistol. For 
an instant he was minded to shoot the dangerous 
brute through the head, and finish the business 
then and there. Yet somehow he could not bring 
himself to do so. Instead, he aimed straight at 
the wide shining blade. 


120 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


Martin was a good shot, and of late had had 
plenty of practice. Even so it was luck as much 
as skill which caused his first bullet to strike the 
blade plumb in the center and not three inches 
above the hilt. 

The result was instantaneous. The weapon was 
knocked out of Odan’s grasp as though it had been 
struck with a mallet. At the same time the im- 
pact numbed the giant’s right arm, and it dropped 
useless to his side. 

For a moment the great Norseman stood as if 
struck to stone, while his men, paralyzed by what 
seemed to them a miracle, shrank away. Then, 
pulling himself together, Odan leaped forward 
again, fairly bellowing with rage. 

Before he could take a single step, a spear came 
whizzing past Martin’s head, and struck full upon 
the big man’s breastplate. The spear glanced on 
the polished plate without penetrating, yet so 
great was the force of the blow that it staggered 
the giant. He lost his balance, stepped back- 
wards over the edge of the float, and disappeared 
into the harbor with a resounding splash. 

Akon’s hand fell on Martin’s shoulder. 

“Come! Come quickly!” he cried; and in a 
moment Martin and the prince were racing back 
towards the temple. 


121 


THE CHANGE PASSES 

At the top of the temple steps Martin turned 
angrily on Akon. 

“What did you do that for? Why did you drag 
me away?” 

“To save your life,” replied Akon dryly. 
“Mine, too, for the matter of that.” 

“Those brown men would never have dared to 
touch us,” retorted Martin indignantly. 

“Perhaps not. But did you not see? Odan’s 
own bodyguard was close behind him. And they 
are of our own breed. See! They have pulled 
Odan out of the water.” 

“Come into the temple.” It was Hymer, the 
priest, who spoke, and, drawing them inside, he 
pulled over the lever which closed the vast stone 
doors. 

For a moment the three looked at one another 
in silence. 

“What’s to be done now?” demanded Martin 
resentfully. He was desperately sore at losing 
the Bat. 

“The next move is with Odan,” said Hymer. 

“Can’t we attack them before they all get 
ashore? ” asked Martin. “Surely that is our 
only chance.” 

Hymer shrugged his vast shoulders. “We have 
not two score men all told, while Odan has as 


122 MARTIN CRUSOE 

many hundreds. Boy, you should have killed 
Odan with your fire-shooter instead of striking 
the sword from his hand. But you are young, and 
I do not blame you. Wait here while I go to the 
look-out post above, and discover what Odan is 
about.’ ’ 

Akon and Martin were left alone in the priest’s 
room. The walls were much too thick for them 
to hear anything of what was going on outside, 
and the only window was the skylight. 

“Our chances look pretty slim,” said Martin, in 
English, then, seeing Akon’s puzzled look, ex- 
plained as best he could. 

“Matters have been working up to this point 
for years,” Akon told him. “As Hymer has told 
you, the brown men cling to their ancient rites, 
which are brutal and terrible. My father was 
always against them, and when he became king 
endeavored to put an end to them. 

“We Northern men are split into two branches. 
Odan is the head of the other branch, and has 
always desired to make himself king. He hates 
my father and myself, and Hymer too, who 
has been my father’s friend from the begin- 
ning. 

“We Northmen are very few in number com- 
pared with the ancient people, who were here 


THE CHANCE PASSES 


123 


from the beginning; and Odan, aware of this, has 
curried favor with the brown men and has mar- 
ried one of their women. It was he who led the 
attacks upon the Island of Fire. My father and 
I had no wish to take part in them, although on 
the last occasion I was forced to accompany 
Odan.” 

Martin was listening eagerly. All this was new 
to him. 

Akon paused a moment, and went on : 

“My father’s illness and my absence have given 
Odan his chance. Without doubt he meant to kill 
me, then to return here to murder my father and 
make himself king. ’ ’ 

“But why didn’t he do it before?” asked 
Martin. “You say he has all the brown men be- 
hind him. ’ ’ 

“Yes; but we have Hymer, and he has been 
worth an army to us. The brown men, as he has 
told you, are soaked in superstition. They are 
afraid of Hymer, yet they hate him because he has 
abolished many of the old rites. Odan has 
worked upon this feeling. He has even drawn 
many of our own men away from us. Now they 
are ripe for revolt; and I fear that the fact of 
your plane having fallen into their hands will 
prove the turning point.” 


124 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


He rose suddenly to his feet. His quiet face 
was suddenly aglow. 

“But we will fight them / y he cried. “We will 
not submit tamely to the tyranny of Odan . 9 7 

Martin sprang up too. 

“I am with you, Akon,” he answered. “I am 
with you. Between us well get ahead of that old 
ruffian . 7 7 

The door opened, and Hymer came in. 

“Odan is holding a meeting in the great 
square / 7 he said. “He has told the people that 
the king is in league with the wizards from the 
‘East. He vows he is no longer fit to rule, and 
has asked them to proclaim him regent . 7 7 

“Then it is war — war to the knife V 7 said Akon 
gravely. ‘ ‘ Let us tell my father. ’ 7 

The party within the palace had not long to wait 
for Odan’s next move. Two messengers appeared 
carrying green boughs, which were the Lemurian 
equivalent for the white flag. These men were 
brought into the room where the king himself 
awaited them, with Akon, Hymer, and Martin 
seated behind him. 

They made obeisance, then stood before the 
king. They were both Norsemen; and Martin 
noticed that neither of them looked quite com- 
fortable. 


THE CHANCE PASSES 125 

The king sat looking at them in contemptuous 
silence. 

The elder of the two, a hard-looking man of 
fifty, with a narrow forehead and heavy, stubborn 
jaw, took a step forward. 

“King, we bear a message from the chief Odan. 
He bids us say that the people are angry because 
you and the Prince Akon have given friendship 
to the wizards from the East. He wishes no harm 
to you or the prince, but to warn you that he, as 
commander of the army, cannot hold his men 
longer unless you renounce the wizard and give 
back to the people their old rites. I have 
spoken .’ 9 

The king raised his silvered head, and fixed his 
piercing eyes on the envoy. 

“Since when has Odan dared to dictate to his 
king?” he asked sternly. 

The envoy was silent, and the king went on. 

“In what way does Odan desire that I should 
renounce the wizard?” he asked sarcastically. 
“May the king not hear the orders of his sub- 
ject?” 

A dull red flush rose to the cheeks of the envoy, 
and h,is voice was thick with badly suppressed 
rage. 

“0 Bang,” he said, “the will of the people is 


126 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


that the flying wizard should undergo the ordeal 
by fire, according to the ancient customs of the 
island/ ’ 

Dead silence in the great room. Every eye was 
upon Martin. As for Martin himself, a chill crept 
down his spine. 

The ordeal by fire! The words drummed 
through his brain, and though no one had told him 
the exact nature of the ordeal, he had little real 
doubt about it. Quite clearly it was closely con- 
nected with the spouting flame of the gas well. 

The king sat as if turned to stone, his eyes 
fixed upon the envoys. As for Akon, anger and 
grief struggled upon his fine face. Martin knew 
that they were both longing to help him, yet for 
some reason unable to do so. 

The paused seemed to Martin to last an age. 
Really it was only a matter of a few seconds. 
Then Hymer stepped forward. 

‘‘Hear me, 0 men of Odan!” he said, in his 
deep voice. “On behalf of the white man from 
the East, whom ye term wizard, I accept the chal- 
lenge. Tomorrow at the hour of noon he shall 
tread the path of fire. I have spoken.” 


CHAPTER XIV 


ORDEAL BY FIRE 

“You will strip to the skin, bathe yourself in the 
fluid in this bath, then wait until you are dry and 
dress yourself in these garments,” said Hymer 
to Martin. “When you are dressed, and just be- 
fore the door opens, you will step upon this stone 
which you see is covered with a gray powder. 
Rub your feet thoroughly in the powder, so that 
the soles are completely covered with it. Then 
come forth, and follow the path. 

‘ ‘ Be not afraid, ’ ’ he added gravely. 

Before Martin could say a word, he had passed 
out through a door at the back of the room of 
preparation, and Martin was left alone. 

To say that Martin was happy or comfortable 
would be stretching the truth dangerously. His 
heart was thumping, and he had a nasty sinking 
feeling at the pit of the stomach. 

Little wonder, for the small dressing-room in 
which he stood was filled with the deep droning of 
the fire fountain, and the solid ground beneath 
him vibrated under its rushing tide of fire. 

127 


128 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


Around the flame spout — Akon had shown it to 
him on the previous evening — at a distance of no 
more than ten or a dozen yards, ran a raised path- 
way of stone; and the nature of the ordeal was 
that he had to tread this path, making a complete 
circle of the fire. 

How such a thing was possible, how he could 
accomplish such a feat and live, was beyond 
Martin’s understanding. Talk of a burning, fiery 
furnace — why, the heat at such close range would 
scorch the very flesh from his bones. 

Yes, he was badly scared, yet, with the inborn 
pluck which was his, he had no thought of trying 
to escape the ordeal. To attempt it was the only 
way of saving Akon and his father from the fury 
of Odan. If he failed, well, then, he was a dead 
man, but at any rate he would have died with the 
feeling that he had done his duty; if by any 
miracle he succeeded, then the whole case was 
changed. The half-savage Lemurians would turn 
upon Odan, and the revolution would be at an end. 

These were the thoughts that passed through 
his mind as he proceeded to follow out the chief 
priest’s instructions. He stripped off his drill 
jacket and breeches, his boots and puttees, and all 
his clothes. As he laid them over the back of a 
bench he wondered grimly if he would ever wear 


ORDEAL BY FIRE 


129 


them again. Then he got into the great stone bath 
filled with clear, cool water which had a curious 
silky feel, and a peculiar but not unpleasant odor. 
When he got out his skin prickled slightly and had 
a strangely soft feeling. It was no hardship to 
wait until he was dry, for the place was almost 
uncomfortably warm. 

The clothes which Hymer had left him were of a 
white material, resembling wool, but very thick 
and heavy. The outer garment was like a dressing- 
gown, belted at the waist, and coming down to 
his ankles. There was a turban-like head-dress. 
Examining the stuff, Martin made up his mind 
that it was probably made of asbestos fibre, and 
therefore fireproof. It was quite clear that the 
priest was doing his best for him; yet, even so, 
Martin felt that no precautions could save him 
from the effects of that terrific, furnace-like heat. 

He had just got into the dress when the inner 
door opened and Prince Akon entered. His fore- 
head was knitted, and his brilliant blue eyes were 
full of anxiety. 

Striding forward, he took Martin by both hands. 

“My friend,’ * he said sharply, “you must not 
do this thing. Take your pistol, and I will take 
my sword. With our men who are still faithful, 
we will fall upon Odan and slay him.” 


130 MARTIN CRUSOE 

Martin looked up and smiled. Then he shook 
his head. 

“Akon, you are one of the best,” he said, “but 
you know as well as I do that it won’t work. 
Odan’s taking good care that we don’t try any 
little surprise of that sort. It would only mean 
that the whole lot of us, including your father, 
would be wiped out. No; I’m trusting Hymer, 
and I’m going through with it.” 

Akon paused. He seemed to have some difficulty 
in speaking. 

“You are very brave,” he said at last. “And 
as I see that your mind is made up, I will not 
argue more. But this I promise — if harm comes 
to you, I myself will settle your debt. I will kill 
Odan.” 

» 

“You’d much better sit tight and look after 
your father,” returned Martin. “Once I am out 
of the way, Odan won’t have any further cause 
for complaint. But, talking of debts, I want you 
to settle one or two of mine if you can possibly 
manage it — I mean, in case I am not able to do it 
myself. Will you?” 

“Tell me,” replied Akon simply. 

“In the first place,” said Martin, “I want you 
to get news to the Professor, and if possible send 
my flying boat back to him.” 


ORDEAL BY FIRE 


131 


“It shall be done,” said Akon, “if I am alive 
to do it.” 

Martin laughed. 

“You can’t do it if you’re dead. That’s a sure 
thing. And now for the other business. You 
seem to have lots of gold here?” 

“Next to tin and copper, it is our most plentiful 
metal,” agreed Akon. “But of what use is gold 
to you?” 

“None to me, personally. But it’s worth a lot 
in my country. We use it for money, as I have 
told you before. Can you spare some?” 

“A hundred men’s load, if you so desire.” 

“Bless you, two or three will be enough. Now 
see here. My father died owing money. It was 
not his fault, but I want to pay it and so clear 
his memory. Now, on this paper I have written 
down the name of the man who will pay these 
debts for me. He is our man of law. Give the 
gold and this paper to the Professor; and I know 
that he will manage the business for me if he ever 
gets back home again.” 

“It shall be done,” repeated Akon; and as he 
spoke the deep thunder of a metal gong rose above 
the shrill whistle of the fire fountain. He started up. 

“That is the signal!” he exclaimed. “The door 
is about to open.” 


132 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


4 ‘ Then I must rub my feet in this powder,’ ’ said 
Martin quickly; and, springing on the stone, he 
proceeded to do so. 

Next moment the outer door, worked by in- 
visible levers, swung slowly open. 

One last grip of Akon’s hand, then Martin 
stepped out into the arena. A path, white and 
smooth like the one which circled the gas geyser, 
led straight from the door. For a moment Martin 
paused and glanced around him. 

Now he became aware that there were no fewer 
than three separate galleries surrounding the im- 
mense circle, and that each of these was packed 
almost to suffocation. There were many thousands 
of people both brown skinned and white, but the 
brown men were much more numerous. And all 
these thousands of pairs of eyes were centered 
upon the boy who stood alone, robed in white, 
on the pathway beneath them. 

Not a sound did they make. The hush was 
broken only by the steady blast of the gas fountain 
in the centre. Seen from below, this spout of fire 
was even more terrible and impressive than as 
Martin had first seen it from above. The shaft 
from which it rose seemed to be about two feet 
across; and close to the ground the pressure was 
so great that the flame was invisible. It appeared 


ORDEAL BY FIRE 


133 


first at about a man’s height from the ground, 
and here it was blue and almost transparent. 
Higher up it broadened and turned yellow, and 
from that white, until, near its towering summit, it 
was a great umbrella-like shape of incandescent gas. 

As it happened the day was overcast, a rare 
thing in that part of the world, and against the 
canopy of dull cloud overhead the flame gleamed 
with intolerable brilliance, throwing up into 
strongest relief all those thousands of strained 
faces that lined the tiers of galleries. 

Two faces in all that crowd Martin saw as 
he looked swiftly round. One was the King’s, 
grave yet splendid under its thick thatch of silver 
hair; the other Odan’s. The King sat upon a 
raised seat on the north side of the highest gallery ; 
Odan in a great chair, exactly opposite. And 
Odan’s fierce eyes gleamed with a savage delight 
which filled Martin with sudden remorse that he 
had not taken his chance on the previous day, and 
killed the evil beast. 

All this he took in within a few seconds. Then, 
with head erect, he walked steadily along the path. 

At every step the heat increased. Before he 
was half-way across the space separating him 
from the fire fountain it had become almost in- 
tolerable. It was upon his face that he felt the 


134 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


worst of it. The clothes with which Hymer had 
provided him were clearly made of a non-conduct- 
ing substance. They protected his body com- 
pletely. With a quick movement he pulled his 
head-dress more closely over his face, and 
moved on. 

Now he was within thirty paces of the flame, 
and it took every ounce of will-power and resolu- 
tion he possessed to keep going. If it were like 
this now, what would it be by the time he reached 
the path itself? Could flesh and blood carry him 
so far? 

His head spun, his pace slackened in spite of 
himself. All that he was conscious of was the 
hideous roaring of the flame and the intolerable 
heat which beat upon him. He was in such tor- 
ture that the mad idea came upon him to rush 
forward, hurl himself into the flame itself, and so 
end his pain. 

Five steps more, and his senses were rapidly 
leaving him. Then — was he dreaming or was it 
really true? — the mighty pillar of flame seemed 
to flicker like a candle in a draught. The deep- 
toned whistle was cut short, and before his as- 
tonished eyes the whole thing went out like a 
blown candle. 

For an instant Martin was unable to trust his 


ORDEAL BY FIRE 


135 


senses. He stood perfectly still. Then like a 
flash it came to him that this might be only a 
temporary respite, and that if he did not hurry 
the flame might burst out again. 

On he went, reached the white circle, and with 
long but steady strides marched round it. Though 
the stone was almost redhot beneath him he hardly 
noticed it. In some strange way the powder saved 
his skin from burning. He completed the circle, 
turned deliberately, and marched back towards 
the edge of the arena amid a silence that was like 
death. Hardly was he half-way back before, with 
a screech like a hundred steam whistles, the pent- 
up gas broke loose again, and the flame went 
soaring to the skies. 

But loud as was its roar, it was nothing to the 
thunder of shouting which burst from ten thousand 
throats, and sent echoes crashing to and fro across 
the vast arena. 

Martin paid no attention. Now that the strain 
was over, he began to feel how terrible it had been. 
He was sick and giddy, and his one idea was to 
reach the dressing-room before he collapsed. 

As he got to the door he felt himself staggering, 
but- before he fell Akon’s strong arms seized him, 
and the splendid young Norseman set him gently 
in a chair and put a cup to his lips. 


136 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


What it contained Martin did not know, but it 
was exquisitely cool and fresh, and must have been 
a strong tonic into the bargain, for he felt new 
life flowing in his veins. 

“Is — is it all right !” he panted out. 

“You did splendidly,’ ’ Akon told him. “Even 
the flame could not destroy one so brave as you.” 

“Nonsense!” said Martin pettishly. “Who 
was it that turned the tap off just at the right 
moment!” 

Akon gazed at him blankly; and it came to 
Martin, with a strange shock, that the prince 
actually believed a miracle had happened. 

He changed the subject quickly. 

“Now I hope they'll let me go home,” he said. 

Akon looked at him gravely. 

“I fear not,” he answered. “Listen to them 
shouting! They are crying for you to be their 
leader in place of Odan.” 

For once Martin came very near losing his 
temper. 

“I'hey want me to be their chief in place of 
Odan!” he exclaimed. “Did anyone ever hear 
such foolishness! Akon, I am going down to the 
Bat this minute, and I shall be away at Lost 
Island before they know I am gone.” 

As he spoke he sprang up. 


ORDEAL BY FIRE 


137 


But lie had miscalculated his strength. He had 
not in the least realized how tremendous had been 
the strain of the last twenty minutes. He stood 
swaying a moment, then collapsed, and Akon was 
just in time to catch him as he fell. 


CHAPTER XV 
THE POWDER PLOT 


The next thing Martin knew he was lying on 
a most comfortable couch, in a big, airy room. 
For a moment he could not imagine where he was. 
Then, as he stared vaguely about, his wandering 
eyes fell upon Hymer the priest, who sat in a 
chair close by. 

“Hulloa!” he said weakly. 

The priest turned with a smile. 

“ So you are awake. How is it with you?” 

“All rights ’ answered Martin. Then, remem- 
bering, “Oh, I don’t know! I fainted. What a 
silly thing to do!” 

“A thing that most others would have done 
before instead of after the ordeal,” said Hymer 
dryly. 

Then, as Martin tried to sit up, the priest 
stretched out his hand. 

“Not so, my friend. You will lie still for the 
present.” 

“But I must be off,” said Martin impatiently. 
“I have to get back to the other island.” 

138 


THE POWDER PLOT 


139 


“You cannot fly in the darkness, ” Hymer told 
him quietly. “It is now night.’ ’ 

“You don’t mean that I have been lying here 
like a log all these hours?” returned Martin, 
horrified. 

“You have slept these eight hours past,” said 
the priest. But he did not add that he had given 
Martin a draught brewed from poppy juice to 
keep him asleep, nor did he tell him that the 
medicine was probably the one thing that had 
saved him from serious illness. 

“My friend,” he went on, “I ask that you will 
remember I am your doctor, and that I desire you 
to remain quiet until to-morrow. Thanks to your 
courage when you faced the fire, there is at present 
no danger to yourself or to the rest of us. Your 
flying boat is safe, and will be well guarded, and 
I will take it upon myself that word shall be sent 
of your safety to your friends on the Island of 
Fire.” 

“And when shall I be able to go?” demanded 
Martin. 

“That matter we will discuss later,” Hymer 
answered. “For the present I desire that you 
sleep.” 

As he spoke he fixed his eyes upon Martin’s 
face, and there was something so strangely com- 


140 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


pelling in their gaze that Martin felt he must obey. 
For a moment or two he struggled, hut the effort 
was useless. An intense drowsiness came over him, 
his eyes closed, and in a few minutes he was 
sound asleep. 

When he awoke for a second time it was broad 
day, and the sun was streaming through a soft, 
rose-colored curtain which covered the window 
of the room. He felt extraordinarily well and 
very hungry. 

Sitting up in bed, he looked about. Instantly 
a thick curtain at the far end of the room was 
pushed aside and a brown man entered, carrying 
a tray with food upon it. He bowed deeply, 
placed the tray on a table beside the couch, and, 
'bowing again, departed. 

Martin lost no time in sampling his Lemurian 
breakfast. There was a large and beautifully 
shaped bowl full of some steaming mixture which 
he recognized at once as chocolate — at least, it was 
made from the cocoa bean, but flavored with some- 
thing quite different from vanilla, and even nicer. 
There was fresh bread made of white maize flour, 
very light and sweet. Besides this, there was a 
dish of most excellent broiled mullet and fruit 
of several varieties, including custard-apple and 
Brazilian jack-fruit. 


THE POWDER PLOT 141 

It was a meal that could not have been bettered 
by the chef of the finest hotel in New York, and 
Martin did not leave much of it. He had just 
finished when the servant came again, this time 
bringing a large pitcher full of water, a great 
brass bowl, and a quantity of clothes. 

Martin realized that he was to get up and dress, 
but, to his dismay, his own clothes were missing, 
and the servant indicated by signs that he was to 
wear those he had brought, and which turned out 
to be the same sort as those worn by Akon. 

Martin did not half like it. It began to look as 
if he were not going to get away very easily. How- 
ever, it was Hobson’s choice, so at last he got 
into the new rig, and looking at himself in a great 
mirror of polished metal, which was fastened 
against the wall, could not help seeing that he 
made rather a fine figure in the white tunic, golden 
breast-plate, and gold-buckled sandals. 

He was barely dressed before Akon came in and 
greeted him warmly. Martin at once began to 
demonstrate about his clothes, but Akon only 
smiled. 

“Your own things are safe,” he assured him. 
“It is necessary, however, that you should wear 
these garments for the present.” 

Suddenly he turned grave. 


142 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


“Thanks to you,” he continued, “the danger 
is over for the moment, but only for the moment. 
As long as Odan lives there is no real safety for 
any of us.” 

“The fellow is a traitor,” said Martin scorn- 
fully. “Why do you not try him and hang him?” 

“Our laws do not permit of it, my friend,” he 
answered. “I have prayed my father to allow rfle 
to challenge and meet him in single combat. But 
he refuses his consent. Now come with me to the 
king. We have to plan for the future.” 

Hymer was with the king, and it did not take 
Martin long to give them his idea. Briefly it was 
that they should set to work and make gunpowder. 
He described the ingredients which he required. 
Though they had no guns, he believed that a good 
supply of fireworks would impress the super- 
stitious Lemurians. 

“Charcoal, yes; sulphur, yes.” Hymer ticked 
them off on his fingers as he spoke, “But the 
other — saltpetre, you call it — that I do not know.” 

“I am sure we can make it,” Martin answered 
eagerly. 1 4 Where do you get your salt ? ’ ’ 

Hymer told him that there was a salt-pan in the 
interior of the island, and Martin was delighted, 
for saltpetre, which is sodium nitrate, is fre- 
quently found in salt-pans. 


THE POWDER PLOT 


143 


Hymer jumped at the notion. There was plenty 
of sulphur. Charcoal, of course, could be made 
with ease. The only ingredient he was not sure 
about was the nitre, or saltpetre. Once the de- 
cision was taken, the priest declared that there 
was no time to waste. He sent trusted men to 
get the sulphur from some hot springs about five 
miles from the capital. Others were told off to 
prepare the charcoal ; then he and Martin set out 
for the salt-pan. 

As it was not the custom for the high priest to 
walk abroad, they w r ent in litters, carried by brown 
men. The salt-pan was in a wild, desolate part 
of the island beneath a range of low, rugged hills 
full of deep caves. To his dismay, Martin found 
no trace of saltpetre. 

“ Never mind,” he said. “We can make it. The 
earth beneath any stable will yield nitre. 

“Oh, I forgot / 9 he added in dismay. “You 
have no horses here, and no stables. We shall 
have to try in some of the caves. What about 
these V 9 

Hymer looked suddenly grave. 

“Not these caves, my friend / 9 he answered. 
“Even I, who am not by nature a coward, have 
never ventured into their depths. They are in- 
habited by beasts not wholesome for man to meet.” 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


144 

Martin was full of curiosity, but for once he 
could get no information out of the priest. 

“I only pray,” said Hymer very gravely, “that 
you may never make nearer acquaintance with the 
monsters of the caverns.” 

“But we must have the saltpetre,” declared 
Martin. 

“There are other caves,” replied Hymer. “But 
I will not speak of them here. Let us return.” 

He gave orders to the carriers, and they lifted 
the litters and carried them back to the city by 
the sea. It was not until the two were alone again 
in the priest’s own room that Hymer spoke. 

“The caves of which I speak are beneath our 
feet,” he said. 

A sudden idea flashed into Martin’s head. 

“Beneath our feet,” he repeated. “Tell me, 
Hymer, does one of them by any chance com- 
municate with the shaft of the gas well?” 

The priest started slightly. There was some- 
thing half suspicious in the glance he cast on 
Martin. 

“What do you mean?” he asked, after a mo- 
ment’s pause. 

“Surely it is plain!” said Martin. “I am not 
foolish enough to believe that the flame went out 
of itself yesterday.” 


THE POWDER PLOT 145 

Hymer looked round cautiously. He lowered 
his voice. 

“I hardly dare to speak it aloud,’ ’ he answered. 
“It would be death to us all if it came to the ears 
of Odan or of his followers. Even Prince Akon 
and his father do not know the secret.” 

“But I can guess it,” smiled Martin. “You 
have some form of cap or extinguisher which you 
can push foward into the funnel.” 

“Truly nothing is hidden from the wisdom of 
the East,” said Hymer. “Come then, and I will 
take you into the caverns below the temple. You 
shall see the secret device of my ancestor, Grun 
the priest, and mayhap find the burning salt of 
which we are in need. Follow me.” 

He pressed a spring in the floor. A trap door 
opened, showing a flight of steps leading down 
into darkness. First lighting a small lamp, Hymer 
led the way. Down they went into the very depths 
of the earth until they reached a narrow passage 
cut in the solid rock. The air was thick and heavy 
and damp, and a curious white efflorescence coated 
the roof and walls. 

Martin stopped. 

“This is what we want,” he said eagerly. 

But Hymer only signed urgently for silence, 
and moved steadily forward. 


146 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


Presently a deep droning began to make itself 
beard. Martin knew it at once for the sound of 
the gas well. The sound grew louder; there was 
a suffocating smell of gas. 

The passage opened out into a small rock cham- 
ber. Here Hymer stopped, and from a shelf cut 
in the rock took a cloth, which he dipped in water 
standing in an earthen jar. 

* 4 Place this over your face,” he said, handing 
it to Martin. 

Martin did so, and they went on again. Now 
the roaring was deafening, and, by the light of the 
lamp Martin saw that the passage ended in a 
shaft, the sides of which were polished like glass 
by the age-long drive of the rushing vapor. He 
saw, too, that close to the shaft lay a sort of truck 
on wheels, which was heaped with sand. 

Hymer stopped. He put his lips close to 
Martin’s ear. 

“Is there need to explain?” he asked. 

“No,” replied Martin. “I understand per- 
fectly. The truck is pushed forward and the sand 
tipped down the shaft. It is very simple, but very 
well thought of.” 

The roar of the spouting gas deadened all other 
sounds. It must have been some inner sense of 
danger that made Martin suddenly swing round. 


THE POWDER PLOT 


147 


The sight froze him. Barely ten paces behind, 
the gigantic form of Odan blocked the passage. 
The giant stood watching them with a cruel smile 
on his lips. 


CHAPTER XVI 


MARTIN PLAYS A LONE HAND 

For seconds that seemed like minutes the silence 
of the deep tunnel was broken only by the shriek 
of the spouting gas. Martin's eyes were glued 
upon the face of Odan, who stood as motionless as 
himself, still with' that smile of cruel triumph on 
his great, beast-like face. 

Hymer broke the spell. His lips were close to 
Martin's ear. 

* 1 Your fire-shooter," the priest said urgently. 
“Kill him. It is our only chance." 

Martin knew it. Like a flash his hand dropped 
to his pocket — or rather to where his pocket had 
been. For the moment he had completely for- 
gotten his change of clothes. Instead of the rough 
tweed of his Norfolk jacket, his hand met the soft 
stuff of his Lemurian tunic. 

“I haven't got it," he answered dully. “It's 
in my other things." 

“Y T our knife, then." And without an instant’s 
pause the priest drew his own, a dagger of bronze 

148 


MARTIN PLAYS A LONE HAND 149 


with a broad, leaf-shaped blade, keen as fine steel 
and very nearly as hard. 

Dagger in right hand, lamp in left, Hymer made 
a quick rush at Odan. 

For an instant Odan seemed to hesitate, to be 
making up his mind whether to hold his ground, 
and meet his old enemy face to face. But only for 
an instant. Then he turned, and was off up the 
tunnel with such strides as made pursuit seem 
hopeless. 

Hopeless so far as Hymer’s short square frame 
was concerned, and he knew it. Martin, close be- 
hind him, saw the priest raise his hand above his 
head and caught the gleam of the lamplight on 
the yellow blade of the dagger as it whizzed 
through the air. Like a flash of golden fire it 
struck Odan true and straight between his vast 
shoulders, but only to fall ringing from his armor 
to the floor. 

Hymer stopped short. He could run no more. 
Martin heard the panting breath wheeze from his 
lungs as he himself shot past. He had found his 
knife, and, reckless of consequences, ran fiercely 
bn the trail of Odan, resolved to stop him or to 
perish in the attempt. 

Next moment Odan had vanished round a bend 
in the passage. Martin caught the flash of his 


150 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


golden armor as he thundered round the curve. 
Still he followed, but only to find himself in pitch 
darkness. Hymer had the lamp. Once out of the 
radius of its light, the passage was black as a 
starless night. 

But he could still hear the heavy clank of the 
giant’s metal-shod feet, and he pressed on blindly 
in pursuit. 

Suddenly his foot caught in something lying on 
the floor across his path, he pitched forward, and 
fell with stunning force upon the stone floor of 
the passage. 

Hymer ’s anxious voice roused him. 

“N-no. It — it’s nothing,” said Martin thickly. 
“A bit bruised, and all the breath knocked out of 
me. W-where’s Odan?” 

1 ‘ Gone,” answered Hymer in a tone of angry 
despair. “And with him have gone all our hopes 
for the future.” 

“How on earth did he get in?” asked Martin. 

“I cannot tell. I fear treachery. Some of the 
palace or temple servants may be secretly in his 
pay.” 

“Well, if he has gone, it can’t be helped,” said 
Martin quietly. He was beginning to recover 
from the stunning effects of his fall which had 
been caused by Odan’s cloak cunningly dropped 


MARTIN PLAYS A LONE HAND 151 


across Martin’s path. 4 4 What we have to do now 
is to repair the damage as best we may.” 

“ You do not understand,” said Hymer, and his 
voice more than his words made Martin under- 
stand how desperate was the case. 4 4 Our one hold 
over the brown men has been their superstition. 
As Master of the Fire, they feared even if they 
hated me. By this time Odan is telling them how 
they have been tricked. Their rage will be 
terrible.” 

4 4 We shall have to fight for it!” 

4 4 Fight!” repeated the priest bitterly. 4 4 How 
can we fight! A few score against thousands!” 

Martin looked hard at Hymer. He had never 
seen the strong-faced priest in such despair. It 
did not seem to him that matters were any worse 
than they had been a couple of days earlier. Per- 
sonally, he had no idea of taking it lying down. 

4 4 Cheer up!” he said. 4 4 You are forgetting that 
we can make gunpowder; that ought to be as good 
magic as anything else. Let’s get back and set 
to work. I don’t fancy these brown men will 
stand before bombs.” 

Hymer lifted his heavy eyes. 

4 4 Boy,” he said quietly, 4 4 you put shame upon 
me. Let us do as you suggest. There may yet 
be a chance to defeat this evil one.” 


152 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


If Hymer had seemed for the moment to lose 
heart, Martin soon found that he had not lost his 
energy. Once back in the temple he sent mes- 
sengers this way and that. He collected his forces, 
and had the gates closed and guarded. Next he 
brought together a score of workmen, including 
several who were skilled in smelting metal. 

To these he interpreted Martin’s directions as 
to making the metal receptacles for bombs. Hav- 
ing seen them started, Martin took others and 
went down into the tunnel to collect saltpetre. 

The sulphur and charcoal had already been pre- 
pared, and before night everything was under way. 
Martin himself undertook the making of the gun- 
powder. Saltpetre has first to be washed so as 
to free it from chloride. This Martin had to do 
himself. But the men under him were, he found, 
quite capable of powdering the sulphur and of 
distilling the charcoal. He used the brown, or 
“red,” charcoal, which makes a very high explo- 
sive, much too powerful for use in a gun-barrel. 
As he had no books to consult it was fortunate 
that he had the exact proportions fixed in his 
memory. He used seventy-nine parts of saltpetre, 
eighteen of charcoal, and three of sulphur. 

There was little sleep for any of them that night. 
Haste was everything. They had no idea what 


MARTIN PLAYS A LONE HAND 153 


Odan was about, but be might attack at any 
minute. Martin snatched a nap while the powder 
was drying, a process which takes about three 
hours. He had no thermometer, but felt safe in 
leaving the explosive in charge of the priest who 
was keenly interested in the whole process. 

Next morning the town still seemed quiet, and 
after breakfast Martin set to making fuses. The 
Lemurian workmen had finished several score of 
neat bomb cases of different sizes. 

One thing Martin was desperately anxious 
about. This was his flying boat. As Hymer had 
promised, a guard of Royalist troops had been set 
over her, where she lay in the boat-house. They 
were believed to be still there; but Martin was 
afraid that wdien night came they would be rushed 
or lured away. 

The more he thought, the more anxious he be- 
came. The Bat was his only link between these 
lost islands and America. If anything happened 
to her he could never build another. He might 
build the frame, perhaps, but not the engine. 

As the hours went by the suspense grew worse 
and worse. Hymer had begged him to lie down 
and rest, but, tired as he was, he was too restless 
for that. At last, late in the evening, he went 
up to the look-out post on the roof of the vast 


154 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


dome. The great ball of the sun was dipping be- 
hind the black barrier of weed far in the west, and 
its crimson light shone slantingly over the town, 
and turned the calm water of the harbor to the 
color of blood. 

He stood there, staring in the direction of the 
boat-house. He could see no one. There did not 
appear to be a soul on guard, or anywhere near 
the boat-house. The idea came to him that the 
guard had deserted, and on the heels of that 
thought followed a sudden resolve. He deter- 
mined to go and fetch the Bat. There was a lake 
within the Temple grounds on which he could 
alight. 

He turned quickly and hurried down the wind- 
ing stair. 

By this time Martin knew his way about the 
vast building. He had learned that there was a 
side door opening on to a road bordered by thick 
trees. It was the way by which the King went to 
the harbor. 

Martin did not go straight to this door. First 
he visited his room and hid two bombs and his 
pistol in his clothes. Then he went quietly to the 
door, which he found guarded like all the other 
doors, but the guards, seeing Martin in his royal 
dress, simply saluted and made no attempt to stop 


MARTIN PLAYS A LONE HAND 155 

him. By the time he had got outside the sun was 
down and the darkness falling swiftly. 

The road appeared to be deserted. But though 
Martin’s whole mind was set upon the Bat, he was 
not taking unnecessary risks. He walked in the 
centre of the road and kept a sharp look-out on 
all sides. 

He saw no one. The silence was uncanny. 
There was not a sound except a curious low boom- 
ing made by the nightjars swooping in pursuit of 
night-flying insects. The quiet air was heavy with 
the scent of orange and magnolia. 

Walking quickly, it was only a few minutes be- 
fore he reached the point where the road opened 
on the broad quay. Here he stopped again, and 
looked to right and left. But for any movement, 
Lemuria might have been a city of the dead. 

Taking courage, Martin walked straight to the 
boat-house. He paused outside and listened. Not 
a sound came. 

“As I thought ,’ 9 he said to himself. “The beg- 
gars have got the wind up and cleared. It’s lucky 
I came.” 

He walked down the steps. The door was open. 
In the fast thickening gloom he could just catch 
the outline of the Bat lying motionless on the 
smooth water. 


156 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


“Ah, you beauty !” he said. “It won’t be long 
before I have you safe. And even old Hymer 
won’t find it in his heart to blame me when he 
sees the Bat inside the temple grounds.” 

He stepped down on to the floating pontoon, and 
stooped to loosen the mooring ropes. He was in 
the very act of untying the first knot when, with- 
out the slightest sound or warning, something 
thick and soft dropped over his head, and at the 
same instant a pair of powerful arms gripped him 
round the waist. 

He struggled furiously, kicking out with all his 
might. He tried to shout, but the thick folds of 
the blanket-like stuff cut off all sound. He gasped 
for breath, but could not fill his lungs. 

His head seemed to swell to the size of a 
balloon; his struggles ceased. The last thing he 
was conscious of was the sound of a harsh, cruel 
laugh which penetrated faintly to his dazed brain. 
Then his senses left him, and he collapsed limply 
on the boards of the pontoon. 


CHAPTER XVII 


THE PLACE OF DEATH 

When Martin came to himself he was lying on a 
couch in a strange room, a small, bare, cell-like 
place, the walls of which were built of cyclopean 
* blocks of stone. The place was faintly lit by a 
lantern high overhead. His chest still felt sore 
and his mouth dry, otherwise he was none the 
worse. 

“So they’ve got me!” he muttered half aloud. 
He sat up and instinctively felt for his pistol. 

It was gone. 

Of course he had expected this, but all the same 
it was a nasty shock. Suddenly he felt something 
round and smooth under his tunic. His heart beat 
hard as he remembered that these were his two 
little bombs. His searchers, not knowing what 
they were, or perhaps not noticing them at all, had 
passed them over. 

“If the worse comes to the worst I’ll get that 
old scoundrel Odan before they finish me,” he said 
grimly. 


157 


/ 


158 MARTIN CRUSOE 

He looked round and found food beside him — 
maize cakes and water. That was all. 

‘ ‘They don’t mean to starve me, anyhow,” he 
continued with a light smile. He was recovering 
his spirits and beginning to wonder what was 
going to happen. 

He drank some water, ate a piece of the bread, 
and lay back, thinking hard. The place was quiet 
as death, and Martin had had a pretty stiff time 
of it for the last twenty-four hours. Before he 
knew it he was asleep, and when he woke again 
daylight was leaking through a barred window. 

As Martin sat up and stretched himself he 
heard a slight grating sound; a bronze door slid 
back and two men entered his cell. 

They were Norsemen, ugly-looking, hard-faced 
fellows. Martin stared hard at them. The ex- 
pression on their faces rather amused him. It 
was a queer mixture between triumph and fright. 

Evidently they were delighted at having the 
wizard in their power, but rather afraid lest he 
might vanish in a puff of smoke. For a moment 
Martin thought of chucking one of his bombs at 
them and making a bolt; but he decided to wait 
for a better chance. Still the thought made him 
smile, and his smile made his two gaolers more 
uncomfortable still. 


THE PLACE OF DEATH 


159 


One stood guard with his sword ready, while 
the other beckoned Martin to follow. Martin de- 
cided he might as well do so; and his guide 
marched ahead, while the fellow with the drawn 
sword followed close behind. 

They went down a long, stone-paved passage, 
descended some steps, and presently came into a 
sort of guard-room. In the middle of the place 
stood Odan, grim and gigantic. His thin lips were 
drawn back in an ugly grin, showing his walrus- 
like tusks under his yellow mustache. 

“So here is the sorcerer !” he sneered, and 
now he spoke in Norse which Martin under- 
stood. 

“ Yes, I ’m here, ’ ’ replied Martin calmly. ‘ ‘ And 
I should he glad if you would let me have a wash 
and some breakfast.” 

Martin’s coolness seemed to upset the giant. 
He glared angrily. Then suddenly he laughed 
harshly. 

‘ ‘ The little cock crows loud, ’ ’ he said. ‘ 1 Of our 
kindness we will grant the favors you ask — the 
more so since the food will be the last you will 
enjoy in this life. 

“Hur, bring food!” he roared. 

One of the men hurried out, and came back 
quickly with bread, cold meat, and a jug full of 


160 MARTIN CRUSOE 

some sweetish, pungent drink with a flavor of 
honey in it. 

Martin, knowing that he would need all his 
pluck and strength before the day was out, ate 
heartily. He was no longer frightened; he felt 
extraordinarily cool. He had made up his mind 
that he would keep quiet until actual violence 
was offered and then — then he would use his 
bombs. 

He caught Odan looking at him with a certain 
curiosity in his cold eyes. The only virtue this 
primeval brute respected was bravery. It seemed 
that he was secretly astonished at Martin’s cool- 
ness in the face of danger. 

Breakfast over, Martin was placed in a litter, 
the curtains were drawn, and the bearers trotted 
off at a sharp pace. 

The journey lasted for about an hour; then the 
litter stopped. The curtains which covered it were 
pulled sharply aside, and Martin blinked in the hot 
blaze of the tropical sun. 

Glancing round, he recognized at once the part 
of the island to which he had been brought by 
Odan’s men. 

It was the valley of the salt pan, that desolate 
spot which he and Hymer had visited in their vain 
search for saltpetre. There was the salt pan 


THE PLACE OF DEATH 161 

glistening like snow under the torrid sun, and 
there were the low bare cliffs surrounding it. Not 
a green thing was in sight. The place was an 
abomination of desolation, and the blaze of light 
only made it look the worse. 

All this Martin saw in a flash. The next thing 
he saw was that not only Odan was present, but 
also a large number of his followers, both white 
and brown. Among them all Martin did not find a 
single friendly face. The Norsemen were frankly 
hostile, the Lemurians sullenly so. 

Martin sprang lightly to the ground and stood 
facing Odan. The giant glared at him. 

“ Sorcerer ,’ 9 he said, “once you and that jug- 
gler the priest Hymer have tricked us. In the 
ordeal that is before you to-day you will not have 
the help of Hymer. ’ 9 

He laughed as he spoke, and his laugh was like 
the sound of dry stones rattling down a barren 
beach. There was something horribly ominous 
about his threat, and in spite of all his pluck 
Martin felt a shiver crawl down his spine. But 
he shook off the feeling, and stared back at Odan 
with open contempt. 

“You at least have plenty of help at hand, 
Odan,” he answered scornfully. “One who did 
not know you might well suppose you feared me.” 


162 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


Odan ground his great teeth. Dull sparks 
seemed to flash in his cold blue eyes. He took a 
stride forward, and Martin thought he meant to 
attack. He hoped he would. His hand was under 
his tuuic on a bomb. If Odan laid hands upon him, 
he meant to blow him to ribbons and trust to the 
moral effect on the others to make good his 
escape. 

But Odan checked himself. He laughed again. 

4 ‘Wizards,” he said, with a heavy attempt at 
sarcasm, “are not as other men. They must be 
guarded more carefully. But these” — he waved 
his great hand — “these are only witnesses. It is 
they who will spread the news throughout the 
island that even the sorcerer from the West was 
not able to save himself from the Creature of the 
Cavern.” 

Again Martin felt that unpleasant chill upon 
him. But he shook it off. Whatever this new 
ordeal might be, he must face it fairly and 
squarely. It was not only his own life that was 
at stake, but the lives of Akon, of Ilymer, of the 
King— and in the long run, no doubt, of Professor 
Distin himself, for once Odan was undisputed 
ruler of Lemuria the first thing he would do would 
be to lead his Armada against the other island. 

Odan spoke again. 


THE PLACE OF DEATH 163 

“This way, sorcerer/ ’ he said. “Walk, if yon 
will. If you will not, you will go nevertheless.” 

Martin laughed. 

“I will walk, Odan,” he said. “Yet I will tell 
you this. Should you or any of these lay hands 
on me they shall die.” 

The cool certainty with which he spoke im- 
pressed even Odan. Odan, remember, was steeped 
almost as deeply in superstition as the brown 
men themselves, and although he had managed to 
catch Hymer tripping over the fire fountain busi- 
ness, yet he had a secret belief that Martin really 
could work magic. The flying machine, to say 
nothing of the mysterious fog that night upon the 
island lake, had shaken him badly, and he was 
ready to believe that almost anything was possible 
to Martin. 

Grunting angrily under his breath, he signed 
to Martin to follow, and led the way towards the 
cliff face. The rest, forming into double line, 
followed. No one spoke a word. The silence was 
broken only by the tramp of feet across the hard, 
dry ground. 

The rude path that ran through the valley and 
which they followed led straight to the cliff face, 
ending in the arched mouth of a cave. It was the 
same cave which Martin had noticed on the occa- 


164 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


sion of his previous visit, and which he had wished 
to search for saltpetre. Hymer’s words came 
back to him: “ Beasts not wholesome for man 
to meet” inhabited the cave. 

Once more he had to use all his will power to 
shake off the creeping horror that came over him. 
Next minute he had passed under the black 
arch. 

“All hope abandon, ye who enter here,” were 
the words that flashed through his brain, and truly 
the black, echoing gloom of the place was enough 
to try the strongest nerves. The procession 
halted a minute while torches were lit. Their red, 
smoky glare showed the passage sloping endlessly 
down into the bowels of the earth. Walls and roof 
were of a dark, heavy-colored rock; the roof was 
high and vaulted, while the floor was worn as 
though by the passage of many feet. 

The procession moved steadily on. No one 
uttered a word, but the sound of their footsteps 
sent queer echoes whispering up and down the 
lofty tunnel. 

On they went until Martin reckoned they must 
be nearly a quarter of a mile from the entrance 
and several hundred feet below the level of the 
floor of the valley. Then the passage opened out 
into a vast cavern, so lofty that the torch-light 


THE PLACE OF DEATH 


165 


failed to reach the roof. But in front the ruddy 
glare was reflected from something which pres- 
ently Martin made out to he a sheet of water. 

A few steps farther, and Odan stopped on the 
edge of this under-ground lake which stretched 
out in an unbroken sheet as far as the light 
reached. This lake had the appearance of a sheet 
of black glass, and appeared to be of fathomless 
depth. Not a ripple broke its surface. 

‘ ‘ Come hither, wizard,” said Odan. 

Martin, holding his head high, stepped forward. 
He was watching Odan warily; he did not intend 
to be caught napping. 

To his astonishment he saw a small boat under 
the ledge of rock that rimmed the lake. 

“Now,” said Odan grimly, “we are about to 
test your powers. You see before you a rock 
which rises from the water of the Lake of Death. 
This is the testing place. Row out, seat yourself 
upon the rock, remain there for half an hour, 
and if you are alive at the end of it, then — then 
we will acknowledge that you are indeed a wizard, 
and that your powers are greater than those of 
man.” 

Martin looked Odan full in the face. 

“And supposing that, even without the help of 
Hymer the priest, I come safely through this 


166 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


ordeal, what then Odan? Have I your word to 
go free?” 

Odan smiled dreadfully. 

“You have, 0 sorcerer! You have my 
promise.” 

Martin nodded. 

“That is well,” he said calmly. 

At once he stepped into the boat, and, picking 
up the paddle, drove the small craft swiftly across 
towards the blunt rock which rose out of the 
depths at a distance of perhaps thirty yards from 
the shore. 

As he did so, a curious sound, a sort of thick 
sigh, rose from the watchers around the edge. 


CHAPTER XVIII 
THE WISDOM OF THE EAST 

The sigh, caught by the vault of rock high in the 
darkness overhead, went whispering through the 
stillness of the cavern in a hideously uncanny 
fashion ; and as Martin reached the rock the soft 
echoes were still murmuring through unseen 
depths of gloom. 

Martin stepped out of his boat, tied the boat 
firmly to a projecting point of rock, and seated 
himself upon the highest point of the crag, which 
was something less than his own height above the 
water. 

After that first sigh dead silence had fallen 
again on the crowd of watchers who stood on the 
shore of the subterranean lake. It seemed to 
Martin that they hardly breathed. The only sound 
that broke the stillness was the slight crackle of 
the torches which blazed steadily, flinging a blood- 
red light upon the strained faces of the men and 
upon the ebony surface of the water. 

The suspense was abominable, Martin knew by 
this time that the peril, whatever it was, would 
167 


168 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


rise from the depths beneath him, yet even he was 
not prepared for the horror that was to come. 

A minute dragged by — two. Each seemed an 
hour. Then Martin saw large bubbles rising to 
the surface of the smooth water. They shone 
iridescent in the torch glare, broke and van- 
ished. 

Next, ripples broke the jet-black mirror, and 
rolled slowly away to the edge, lapping, with a 
hollow sound, against the surrounding rocks. 

Martin fixed his eyes upon the point from which 
they started, and almost at once the surface broke, 
and out of the abyss rose a head hideous beyond 
the wildest nightmare. 

Dreadful as had been the monster of the lake 
in Lost Island, this was a thousand times worse. 
Shaped somewhat like that of a crocodile, the head 
was at least six feet in length but the jaws re- 
sembled rather the beak of a monstrous bird than 
those of the lizard tribe. They were solid bone, 
and were set with hundreds of teeth sharp as 
lancets and about three inches long. 

Behind the teeth and set on each side of the vast 
scaly skull was a pair of eyes, each as large as a 
man’s head and protected by a series of bony 
plates. These eyes were fixed on Martin with a 
pitiless glare. It flashed across him that their 


THE WISDOM OF THE EAST 


169 


owner considered him as much its own as a parrot 
would a hemp seed in its tray. 

Behind the head stretched a fish-like body, with 
a scaled crest down its monstrous back. 

But the horror of the thing was its color. It 
was dead white — white as chalk, from the tip of its 
long, beak-like jaws to the tail waving slowly 
under the dark waters. If Martin had had time 
to think, he would have found this natural enough ; 
all cave creatures who live their lives shut away 
from the sun are albino. 

Even if he had thought of this, it would not have 
lessened the horror of the sight. This much he 
did realize — that the creature was a plesiosaurus, 
a relic of earth’s early ages, strangely preserved 
in this forgotten ancient land. 

Slowly and deliberately the horror swam 
towards the little pinnacle of rock. There was 
not the slightest hesitation about its movements, 
nor any hurry. With a thrill of horror Martin 
felt that it was accustomed to be fed in this dread- 
ful fashion, and he vaguely wondered how many 
unfortunates had stood where he was standing, 
waiting for the inevitable end. 

His eyes were fixed on the great staring, ex- 
pressionless orbs of the lizard, and for the mo- 
ment he had forgotten the watchers and every- 


170 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


thing else. He stood as if frozen to stone while 
his hideous enemy came steadily towards him. 

The creature’s beak was within a dozen yards, 
and still Martin did not move. Though he him- 
self did not know it, he was hypnotized by the 
stony glare of the plesiosaurus’s eyes; fascinated 
just as a bird is by the snake which glides upon it. 

So he would have remained till the monster 
snatched him from his pinnacle, but for a mere 
chance. A torch burnt out, and fell hissing into 
the water. 

It was enough. Slight as the sound was, it 
broke the spell, and Martin wrenched himself into 
life again. Instinctively his hand flew to his 
bombs. Quick as light he pulled one out. Having 
no fulminate, Martin had fitted these bombs with 
a slow fuse, a very short one, reckoned to bum no 
more than four or five seconds. The question 
flashed through his brain whether he would have 
time to light it before the brute was upon him. 

Urgent as the peril was, his hand did not shake 
as he pulled out his match and lit the fuse. 

It fizzed up, with a small red glow, throwing 
out a little shower of hissing sparks. Martin 
raised the bomb above his head in his right hand, 
and, as he did so, the monster also rose. 

Its vast pale head shot up out of the lake with 


THE WISDOM OF THE EAST 171 

the water streaming off it; its beak-like ja;ws 
opened, gaping a yard apart. 

In a flash Martin saw his chance and took it. 
With all his force he flung the little bomb straight 
in between those double rows of knife-like teeth. 

With a clang like the slamming of a steel door 
the jaws closed. For an instant the brute seemed 
to hesitate. An instant only, yet to Martin it was 
an age of agony. If his home-made fuse failed 
him his last chance of life was gone; there would 
be no time to prepare the second bomb. 

The head was darting forward again. Martin 
did not move. He knew it was useless, and at any 
rate he would show Odan and his brutal crew that 
he knew how to meet death. 

Then — then a thud. Not a loud explosion but 
something more like the sound made by a dyna- 
mite cartridge exploding under the stump of a 
tree. 

A puff of dark smoke, and as it rose, the mon- 
ster, headless, fell back into the lake. 

Down crashed that ponderous body, flinging the 
spray high as Martin’s head. But though the 
dreadful creature was to all intents and purposes 
dead, yet the slow lizard life within it caused it to 
lash the water fearfully. 

Its struggles were a fearsome sight. Like a 


172 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


whale in its death flurry it thrashed the water with 
its fish-like fins and its long tail. The whole of the 
great under-ground lake boiled and foamed, and 
waves beat upon the shore as in a storm. The 
crashes and splashings sent echoes booming and 
thundering through all the vast cavern. They beat 
back from the rock dome high overhead with a 
deafening, appalling clamor. 

Martin watched, fascinated, during the few mo- 
ments that the dying agonies lasted. Then slowly 
the monster sank beneath the waves, and went 
glimmering down into the unknown depths. And 
Martin felt his knees like water under him, while 
the cave and all it contained swam mistily before 
his eyes. 

But the will within him was strong. He knew 
that now, of all times, he must not show the white 
feather. With a tremendous effort he pulled him- 
self together and faced Odan and his followers. 

Odan and the Norsemen were still on their feet; 
but as for the brown men, one and all were down 
on their marrow-bones. Some, indeed, were flat 
on their faces on the rocks. 

As for Odan himself — fury, unbelief, but more 
than that — fear was written large on his heavy 
countenance. Never having seen an explosive in 
his life except a shot from Martin’s pistol, having 


THE WISDOM OF THE EAST 173 

no idea whatever of the properties of gunpowder, 
this was to him the greatest miracle of all. 

A sudden w T ave of triumph swept through Mar- 
tin J s veins. He made up his mind that now was 
the time to act. He must not wait for the effect 
to wear off. At once he stepped into the boat, 
picked up the paddle, and with a couple of strong 
strokes sent the little craft across to the bank. 

Stepping out, he walked straight up to Odan. 

“I claim your promise,’ ’ he said, looking the 
giant in the eyes. 

Odan’s gigantic frame quivered with rage and 
fear combined. His great right hand moved to- 
wards his sword hilt. If Martin then had shown 
the slightest sign of fear, Odan would have cut 
him down. But not a muscle of the hoy’s face 
quivered, and he faced the leader as calmly as 
though he himself had a regiment behind him. 

Odan uttered a curse under his tawny mus- 
tache. 

“You have won, wizard!” he said savagely. 
“I keep my word. You can go.” 

Martin merely nodded. He glanced scornfully 
at the mob of terrified Lemurians, then, taking a 
torch from one of the men, strolled coolly off up 
the tunnel leading to fresh air and freedom. 

Calm as he looked, in reality Martin was far 


174 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


from happy. By this time he knew Odan’s savage 
mind far too well to trust him. He remembered 
that he was five good miles from even such safety 
as the temple afforded, and the only way to cover 
the distance was afoot. Long before he could 
return to the capital, Odan’s men would have re- 
covered from their panic, and with Odan en- 
couraging them would be at his heels. 

Once round the first curve in the tunnel, he 
quickened his pace. A moment or two later he 
caught sight of the circle of bright light which was 
the entrance to the tunnel. He almost ran, and in 
spite of his danger could have shouted with joy 
when he found himself outside the fearsome 
place, and in the full glare of the hot sun. 

He looked round. The litter stood where he 
had left it, and to his astonishment and relief the 
four brown men who had carried it were still 
with it. Boldness, Martin felt, was his best policy. 
He walked straight across to it. 

The faces of the bearers were a study. It was 
quite certain that they had never expected to see 
him again, either alive or dead. All four dropped 
on their knees as he came up to them. 

Martin smiled inwardly. 

4 ‘They must take me for a ghost / 9 he said to 
himself. 


THE WISDOM OF THE EAST 


175 


“Get up!” he said curtly, and as they did not 
move he administered a gentle kick to the nearest. 

The man sprang instantly to his feet and the 
others followed his example. Martin stepped into 
the litter and pointed towards the city. 

“Get on with you!” he said sharply. 

It was his gesture, not his words, that the men 
understood. They lifted the litter and started off. 
Martin glanced back in the direction of the tun- 
nel. But there was no sign of Odan and his 
crew. 

“That’s all to the good,” said Martin aloud. 
“But I wish I hadn’t quite so far to go.’* 

The bearers went on at a sort of jog-trot, a 
rate at which they would cover about five miles an 
hour. 

Martin’s brain was working double tides. He 
was perfectly certain that at that moment Odan 
was haranguing his men, trying to start them in 
pursuit. 

“If I’d only got my plane,” he muttered. 

He started sharply, for an idea had suddenly 
flashed into his head. 

He looked out. A long way off to his right he 
could see the upper part of the harbor, the calm 
water lying like a blue mirror under the sun blaze. 
He saw something else, and that was a road or 


176 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


track running off the one he was traveling in the 
direction of the harbor. No doubt it was the one 
along which the salt was carried for shipment. 

He leaned over, and pointed out this track to 
his men. 

“That way!” he said sharply. 

Obedient as slaves, the men turned down the 
side road and jogged sharply onwards. Martin 
glanced back. 

Near the cave mouth men, looking like a swarm 
of ants in the distance, streamed across the plain. 

“I thought as much,” he muttered. “Odan’s 
on the job.” 


CHAPTER XIX 


THE SECOND BOMB 

During the next few seconds Martin did some 
pretty hard thinking. The path along which his 
bearers were carrying him ran through a tract of 
low, dark-green scrub, and so far he was fairly 
certain that Odan had not seen him. 

But once Odan and his men were out of the 
valley, they would have a good view of the road 
running back towards the capital, and would know 
that Martin had left it. 

Then they would most certainly try the branch 
road, and as they could travel twice as fast as the 
litter bearers, the game would be up. 

Martin looked towards the harbor, which was 
now little more than a mile away. If he left the 
litter and ran, he could reach it ahead of his 
enemies. But even so, he could not be certain 
of finding a boat, and if he did find one he would 
have to row two or three miles to reach the place 
where the Bat was moored. Also, he would be in 
full view from the shore, and could not hope to 
row as fast as Odan’s men could run. 

177 


178 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


He glanced to the left, and saw the great domed 
roof of the temple palace rising against the hot 
blue sky, about three miles away; then in a flash 
he made up his mind. 

“Stop !” he called sharply to his carriers. 

They seemed to understand. At any rate they 
came to a halt, and instantly Martin was out of 
the litter. 

“Go on,” he ordered, pointing down the track 
to the harbor, “straight to the water.” 

Rather reluctantly they moved on. Martin 
watched them a moment, then, turning to the left, 
plunged into the thick of the scrub, and headed 
straight towards the landmark which the tower- 
ing bulk of the temple offered. 

The heat was frightful; for while the bush cut 
off what little air there was, it was not high 
enough to give any shelter from the intolerable 
blaze of the mid-day sun. Great drops of per- 
spiration streamed down Martin’s face and rolled 
into his eyes, almost blinding him. What he had 
gone through already that morning was not the 
best training for this sort of thing. But he did 
not flag, but kept on at a steady jog-trot which 
covered the ground at the rate of five or six miles 
an hour. 

He was thirsty when he started; before he had 


THE SECOND BOMB 


179 


gone a mile his throat was like sandpaper and his 
tongue a dry stick. He picked up a pebble and put 
it into his mouth, but that was no use. In spite of 
himself his pace began to slacken. 

He came at last to a bit of rising ground. The 
bushes on it grew scantily, but he felt that he 
must see what Odan was doing. Bending double, 
he climbed the hillock and looked cautiously out. 

What he saw was this. One body of men was 
coming down the salt track at a sharp double. On 
the main road, which led to the town, the rest of 
them were traveling fast in a solid body, and 
the dust rose in clouds under their trampling feet. 
In ^front was a tall figure whose golden helmet 
gleamed respendent in the sunlight. 

Martin’s eyes filled with dismay. 

“The fellow’s been too cute for me!” he 
groaned. 

Each moment Martin’s chances were growing 
more slim, yet he refused to despair. He drew a 
long breath, hurried back down the slope, and set 
to running again. 

He had to beat the main body to the boathouse. 
If he could do that, and get aboard the Bat before 
they caught him, he might still escape. If not — 
well, he knew Odan a deal too well to suppose 
that he would get off with his life this time. 


180 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


His heart pounded against his ribs, and he had 
an ugly pain in his side, and black specks began 
to dance before his eyes. But he clenched his 
teeth and kept on. 

Quite suddenly he was out of the scrub and 
among fields where Indian corn and sweet pota- 
toes were growing. To the right was the harbor 
with the boathouse little more than half a mile 
away. He looked to the left. There was the 
road, also about half a mile away, and even as 
he looked the cloud of dust rising high in the hot 
air told him that Odan’s men were there. 

It was no use trying to hide any longer. There 
was nothing for it but to race for the boathouse. 
He made for it at top speed, but before he had 
gone twenty steps there came a fierce shouting 
from behind. 

0dHn could see him, and the chase was on. 

If Martin had been fresh, he would have 
thought nothing of such a run, especially with 
such a start as he had. But by now he was fairly 
A reeling, he could hardly breathe, and he had never 
before been in such agonies of thirst. It was only 
Ihe The light of what was behind him that kept him 
going at all — that and the feeling that he must 
beat Odan at any price. 

The first field was yams hilled up like English 


THE SECOND BOMB 


181 


potatoes ; deep, soft soil and dreadful going. He 
crossed it, plunging through a low hedge, and 
came right on top of two Lemurians hoeing weeds. 
They gazed at him an instant with goggling eyes, 
then both fell flat on their faces. 

Martin saw a big earthen jug of water stand- 
ing under the hedge. He snatched it up, took one 
deep draught, dropped it and tore away. 

A fresh roar behind, and, glancing back, he saw 
Odan and half a dozen huge Norsemen clearing 
the hedge at the upper end of the field. They 
yelled like a pack of hounds on a hot scent, and 
Martin knew they were shouting to the brown men 
to hold him. But the men were far too scared, 
and lay where they had fallen. 

The water had given Martin new life, and 
though he was deadly tired he managed to keep 
his lead. With his eyes fixed on the boathouse he 
raced for it. 

Suddenly the thought came to him that Odan 
might have left a guard over the placq. In- 
stinctively his hand searched for his one remain- 
ing bomb. 'V 

He crossed another field, struggled though a 
fence of prickly pear, and came out into the 
street. 

It was the hour of the midday sleep, and not a 


182 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


soul was in sight on the broad open quay. The 
boathouse was right in front of him. 

He paused for a moment to get his bomb. It 
was his last. His pursuers saw him stop. Their 
yell of triumph spurred him on, and he dashed 
straight for the boathouse. 

To his intense relief there was no one there, 
and the Bat lay safely moored at her pontoon. 

He was down the steps in two jumps, and, lay- 
ing his bomb down, set to unfastening the ropes 
that moored her. 

The knots were hard; someone had doubled 
them all, and his blood chilled as he realized it 
would take time to untie them. 

He felt for his knife, but, like his pistol, it had 
been taken. 

The shouts of Odan’s men grew louder, and, in 
spite of all his pluck, his fingers shook a little as 
he wrestled with the hard knots. 

One was loose. As he leaped across to reach 
the other, he heard the hammering of a score of 
sandalled feet on the quay above. 

Rage filled his heart. 

“ Caught at the finish !” he muttered fiercely. 
‘ ‘ Well, they shall have the bomb first.’ ’ 

Straightening himself, he picked up the bomb 
and struck a match. 


183 


THE SECOND BOMB 

As the little flame burnt up straight in the wind- 
less air Odan appeared at the head of the steps. 
He was covered with dust and the sweat streamed 
off him, but his savage eyes glowed with tri- 
umph. 

“Ha!” he roared in his great bull-like voice. 
“So you are trapped, 0 sorcerer. Now let us see 
if your black arts can save you ! 9 9 

As he spoke he drew his bronze sword from its 
scabbard, and the keen blade flashed in the sun 
blaze. 

“Get back!” cried Martin in a ringing voice. 
1 1 Get back ! My arts can save me. One step for- 
ward and it will be your last!” 

Odan hesitated. He was mad with rage and 
with longing to finish Martin, whom he regarded 
as the only real bar between himself and the 
throne. Yet, as ever, Martin’s calm front daunted 
his savage, superstitious soul. 

His men came pounding up behind him. Their 
presence gave him confidence, and all of a sudden 
he plunged forward. 

Instantly Martin touched the match of the fuse, 
and, raising his little bomb high above his head, 
hurled it straight at the giant. 

Odan saw it coming. He ducked and dodged, 
and the bomb missed him by a matter of inches. 


184 * 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


But it struck the edge of the quay a couple of 
yards behind him and exploded with a deafening 
crash, flinging splinters of metal and stone in 
every direction’. 

With a yell of agony the rebel leader pitched 
forward, and rolled heavily down the steps on to 
the pontoon, his heavy sword clattering after him. 
As for his men, appalled by the explosion, they 
broke and ran. But two lay writhing on the 
stones of the quay, and others were bleeding from 
jagged wounds. 

Martin did not hesitate an instant. Leaping 
forward, he snatched up Odan’s sword, slashed 
the remaining rope, and, stepping swiftly into the 
hull of the flying boat, switched on and pressed 
the self-starter. 

To his intense relief it answered instantly. 
With a stuttering roar the twin engines burst into 
life, the propellers spun dizzily, and the Bat, as if 
glad to feel her master’s hand after so many days 
of idleness, shot out across the smooth water, trail- 
ing a milky wake behind her. 

He sent her rushing onwards faster and faster 
until the air began to scream past his burning 
face. Then he pulled back the joy stick, and felt 
her leave the water and rise lightly into the air. 

Up and up she went, the roar of her exhaust 



The rebel leader pitched forward and rolled heavily down 
the steps. 








# 'W 


4 */ y 






••• 


































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THE SECOND BOMB 


185 


bringing the echoes beating back from the land. 
Then at three hundred feet he circled. 

The first thing he saw was Odan himself, ap- 
parently little the worse, standing on the edge of 
the quay, furiously shaking his huge fist at the 
plane. Behind him were forty or fifty of his men 
staring up, wonder-struck, at the wheeling Bat. 

Martin was conscious of a shock like a blow. 
He had fully believed that the great brute was 
dead and done for, and it was the cruellest dis- 
appointment to see him on his legs, as active for 
mischief as ever. 

He looked beyond — at the temple palace. It 
lay baking in the sunshine, without a sign of life 
about it. 

Martin suddenly felt that he hated it — that he 
was sick of the whole place and everything con- 
nected with it. On top of that came a second 
thought. 

Why should he stay in it? He had plenty of 
petrol for the flight back to Lost Island. Why 
not return to the dear old Professor and the 
kindly Scipio, and leave all these madmen to fight 
out their own quarrels? 

Hardly knowing what he did he swung the Bat’s 
nose round, and went tearing away towards the 
sea with the speed of a homing pigeon. 


CHAPTER XX 


MARTIN PLAYS THE GAME 

Maktin was up nearly a thousand feet; the cool 
air beat upon his burning face, and cooled not 
only his cheeks but his hot and angry soul. And 
as he began to get back to his usual steady-going 
self his heart smote him sorely. Every minute 
he felt more like a soldier who is running away 
from the enemy. 

He turned and looked back. There was the 
strange island lying grilling under the blaze of 
the tropic sun; there was the town with its mys- 
terious-looking houses, and above, on its hill, the 
great temple palace towering against the blue sky. 

And on its domed roof stood a figure — a figure 
looking no bigger than an ant, yet from which the 
sun struck a flaming yellow ray. 

Though the distance was far, far too great for 
Martin to recognize him, yet he felt instinctively 
that this was Akon. 

Yes ; Akon roused by the roar of the plane had 
climbed to the topmost point of the temple roof, 
and now was watching his friend flying away 
186 


MARTIN PLAYS THE GAME 187 

across the sea — leaving him and his to the ugly 
mercies of Odan and his crew. 

A hot flush of shame reddened Martin’s cheeks, 
and, like a flash, he turned the plane, wheeling at 
such an angle that for a moment she side-slipped, 
and was almost out of control. But he righted her 
at once, and, opening her throttle to its widest, 
came roaring back across the harbor, heading 
straight for that lonely figure standing there on 
the temple roof. 

Three minutes later he was flashing across the 
ancient city. Now he saw close beside Akon’s 
towering figure the squat powerful form of 
Hymer, the priest. Both raised their swords in 
salute as he passed high overhead. 

Below, set in the center of the palace grounds, 
was the lake, a little space of purest blue set in 
a frame of flowering shrubbery. Martin cut out 
his engine, and, sliding down through the wide 
spaces of air, alighted with a slight splash in the 
center of the sheet. 

Before he reached the bank Akon and the priest 
were there to greet him. The relief on Akon’s 
face filled Martin with fresh remorse. 

The prince stepped forward with outstretched 
hands. 

“I told Hymer that they could not hold you,” 


188 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


he said triumphantly, 4 ‘but even I did not dream 
that you would not only trick Odan, but also re- 
cover your flying machine.’ ’ 

Martin stood with bent head and downcast 
eyes. 

“But neither of you believed that, once I was 
free, I could have deserted you,” he answered, 
in a low, shamed voice. 

“Deserted us! How mean you?” asked Akon 
wonderingly. 

“Did you not see?” returned Martin bitterly. 
“Did you not watch me flying away towards the 
other island?” 

“I — I thought that you were trying the powers 
of your machine,” stammered Akon. 

“Nothing of the sort. I was leaving you — de- 
serting you. Don’t you understand?” cried 
Martin fiercely. 

The priest stepped forward. 

“The more your credit, that you have come 
back to us,” he said, in his deep voice. “Do not 
blame yourself. From your face I can see that 
much has befallen you since Odan stole you away. 
If I mistake not” — his little, shrewd eyes scanned 
Martin’s face keenly — “if I mistake not, you have 
passed through the ordeal of the cave. * Is it not 
so?” 


MARTIN PLAYS THE GAME 


189 


“The white beast in the underground lake — is 
that what you meant” asked Martin. “Yes, that 
was it.” 

Akon started back. 

“You have faced the monster that never dies?” 
he gasped, in a tone of utter unbelief. 

“He’s dead all right now,” said Martin grimly. 

Akon opened his mouth, but could find no words. 
He looked at Martin as though he were something 
above mere man. 

“Oh, it’s nothing to make a fuss about!” went 
on Martin pettishly. “I gave him one of our 
powder pills, and blew his beastly head off. 
About time, too. From the look of him he’d been 
living on human sacrifices for a century or two.” 

Lightly as he spoke, Martin could not help shiv- 
ering at the recollection of the ghastly ordeal he 
had gone through. 

Hymer saw the shiver; saw, too, that Martin, 
in v spite of all his pluck, was on the point of col- 
lapse. 

“What you require, my friend, is food and 
rest,” he said bluntly. “Come with me at once. 
No; you need not wait to secure your flying ma- 
chine. We will attend to that.” 

So saying, he took Martin by the arm, and led 
him to his quarters. He made him undress, and 


190 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


while he did so prepared a bath, in which he dis- 
solved certain powders. 

The result was magical. Almost as Martin 
stretched his aching limbs in the cool water the 
pain and soreness left him, and his strength came 
back. 

When he had bathed, Hymer brought him a 
drink in a crystal cup. The liquid was violet in 
color, yet clear and sparkling. 

As soon as Martin had drunk it the priest bade 
him lie down. In three minutes he was sound 
asleep, and when, some four hours later, he awoke 
very suddenly, he was hungry as a wolf, and felt 
as fit as he had ever been in his life. 

For a moment he lay quiet, wondering what it 
was had roused him so sharply. Then came a 
thud from somewhere overhead, a thud so heavy 
that the building, massive as it was, seemed to 
quiver. 

Martin leaped to his feet, and began flinging 
on his clothes. As he did so came another of 
those tremendous thumps, and immediately after- 
wards Hymer entered. 

4 ‘So you are awake?” he said gravely. 

“I should think I was. What is happening?” 

“Odan is attacking with all his forces,” an- 
swered the priest. 


MARTIN PLAYS THE GAME 


191 


“But what is the noise? Surely he has no 
guns?” 

“No, my friend, he has not guns. Those are 
great stones which he is hurling upon us with his 
catapults.” 

Martin stared at the priest. To him a catapult 
was a little instrument made of a forked stick and 
elastic, for shooting rats or small birds. A cata- 
pult that could hurl huge boulders on to the tall 
roof of the palace was something quite new to him. 

“Catapults!” he repeated wonderingly. “Can 
we see?” 

Hymer nodded. “Come with me,” he said, and 
led the way out of the room. 

He took Martin to an upper floor and into a 
bare room, lit, not from above like the other 
rooms, but with deep narrow slits in the walls. 

“Look out!” said the priest grimly. 

Martin went to the window, and, as he peered 
through, Hymer saw him start. 

Well he might, for the sight that met his eyes 
was a startling one. The embrasure faced the 
harbor, and below the palace the broad quays 
were black with armed men. There were thou- 
sands of them, mostly Lemurians, but all led and 
officered by Odan’s Norsemen. 

Directly in front of the palace, at the end of 


192 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


the wide street which led up to it, was a huge 
wooden erection on wheels. From it rose two tall 
uprights made of thick, springy bamboo. These 
were joined at the top by a cross-piece, in the 
center of which was a sort of cup made of strong 
canes. From the cross-piece raw hide ropes ran 
back to a sort of windlass. Men were working the 
windlass, slowly straining back the bamboos until 
the cross-piece was almost level with the ground. 

When the cross-piece was at last in position, 
two more men brought forward a boulder, wheel- 
ing it on a small four-wheeled truck. So massive 
was it that it took four men to lift it and place 
it in position. 

“Three hundred pounds if it’s an ounce,” mut- 
tered Martin. 

“Stand back!” said Hymer sharply, but Martin 
was too fascinated to move. 

Next moment another man standing by with a 
mallet struck loose the bolt which held the trig- 
ger in position. 

There was a sharp twanging sound, followed by 
a tremendous whizz, and the huge stone, soaring 
upwards in a great curve, came rushing towards 
the palace. 

Hymer caught Martin by the arm and dragged 
him back. Then came a crash overhead as loud 


MARTIN PLAYS THE GAME 


193 


almost, as if an eighteen pounder shell had hit the 
roof. The whole room rocked with the force of 
the impact, and mortar loosened from the walls 
rattled down in showers. Then followed a ter- 
rible rumble as the stone, accompanied by a mass 
of rubbish, went rolling away down the slope of 
the dome to fall in thunder to the ground below. 

Martin turned to Hymer, and there was a very 
grave look on his face. 

“How long will it take them to smash us up at 
this rate?” he asked. 

“The roof is holed already,” replied Hymer 
bitterly. “Before morning it will be battered in 
completely. And, alas, we have no engines cap- 
able of reaching theirs!” 

“But,” said Martin, “even if the roof goes, 
they can’t get in that way. We can always re- 
treat to the lower floor.” 

“You do not understand,” replied Hymer. 
‘ 4 Once the roof is opened, they will throw fire balls 
upon it. Then what can save us?” 

“Phew! I hadn’t thought of that,” said Mar- 
tin. “This is going to be a bit awkward. It 
seems to me I shall have to take out the Bat and 
try a little of their own medicine upon them. A 
few of our bombs ought to make a nasty mess in 
that crowd there.” 


194 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


“But they know already of the power of your 
bombs,’ ’ objected Hymer. “Will they not scatter 
and take cover?” 

“Quite likely they will,” allowed Martin 
thoughtfully. “Still, they wouldn’t be able to 
work that infernal machine of theirs if they were 
under cover. ’ ’ 

“True, but you cannot fly above them always. 
As you have told me, of the spirit which your 
machine drinks there is but little left, and we have 
no more to give you.” 

Martin nodded. Hymer had hit the weak spot 
at once. There was no getting out of the fact 
that Martin had not petrol left for this sort of 
thing. And it was absolutely necessary to keep 
enough in his tanks to fly back to Lost Island when 
the time came. 

Another monstrous stone crashed on the roof 
of the palace. It was followed by a terrific clatter 
of falling masonry. 

Martin’s lips tightened. 

‘ ‘ That went through, ’ ’ he said. ‘ ‘ Priest, it ’s up 
to us to do something, and it seems to me that the 
Bat is the only weapon by which we can reach 
them. Let me try a bomb or two. It may scare 
them.” 

“That is true, my friend. The fire balls will 


MARTIN PLAYS THE GAME 195 

of a certainty terrify them. Yes, I tell you, that 
so long as Odan lives he has the power to bring 
them back to battle. ’ ’ 

“Then the ugly beggar has got to die!” ex- 
claimed Martin. It was only the sight of Hymer ’s 
puzzled face which made Martin realize that he 
had spoken in English. 

4 4 Then Odan must die, ’ ’ he explained in Norse. 

44 1 would give my own life could I but be sure 
of his death,” replied Hymer, and there was a 
glitter in his eyes which told Martin that he meant 
what he gTaid. 4 4 But Odan, more than the rest, 
knows now the power of your fire bombs. How 
can you be certain of throwing one upon him!” 

44 I can’t,” admitted Martin. 

There was silence for some moments, broken 
only by the harsh creaking of the windlass as 
Odan’s men toiled to draw back again the great 
lever of the catapult. 

Suddenly Martin brought his right fist down 
with a smack into the palm of the other hand. 

44 I have it, Hymer,” he cried. 4 4 Upon my 
word, I do believe I have it. Listen now!” 

Quickly he explained his scheme, and the 
priest’s eyes glowed as he listened. 


CHAPTER XXI 


A FORCED LANDING 

Martin felt as fresh as paint as he hurried down 
to where the Bat lay under a rough housing at 
the edge of the palace lake. Short as his sleep 
had been, the bath and, above all, the draught 
which Hymer had given him, had taken all the 
ache out of his body. His nerves were steady, 
and his eyes clear. 

With him went the priest and two men who were 
loaded with bombs. All the time that Martin had 
been away Hymer had kept his workmen hard at 
it, and now there was a big store of bombs and 
of powder in the temple. 

Though nearly sunset, the heat was greater 
than ever. There was not a breath of air moving, 
and sullen-looking thunder-clouds were banking 
up in every direction. 

It was no sort of weather for flying, and Martin 
knew it. But the monstrous boulders from 
Odan’s vast catapult still thundered on the roof 
of the palace, and gaping holes yawned in the 
golden casing of the great dome. Whatever was 

196 


A FORCED LANDING 


197 


to be done to stop the bombardment had to be 
done quickly, or they would soon have the whole 
place about their ears. 

There was another danger, too — one which 
frightened Martin more than the bombardment 
of the palace. At any minute one of these great 
stones might pitch on the Bat and smash her 
into kindling wood. The quicker she was off, the 
better from every point of view. 

They reached the lake ; Martin got aboard, and 
the men began stacking the bombs in the cockpit. 
Some of them gleamed a rich, reddish yellow in 
the evening light. 

“What on earth are these made of!” asked 
Martin, as he picked one up to put it in its 
place. 

“Gold,” answered the priest. “There was no 
more bronze.” 

Martin fairly gasped. The priest looked wor- 
ried. 

“Will they not do as well!” he asked anxiously. 

“Every bit as well,” Martin answered him. 
“Only it seems too funny. Gold in my country 
is the rarest metal. You can buy a ton of bronze 
for a few ounces of gold.” 

“You shall have all the gold you like to ask for 
if we come out of this safely,” replied Hymer. 


198 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


“And if you can do what you say you can, we may 
yet beat off these rebels.” 

< ‘ Don ’t worry, ’ ’ said Martin. 1 1 1 think my plan 
will work. All I am afraid of is that the storm 
may break too soon.” 

“I, too, fear the storm,” said Hymer. 
“Hasten.” 

Martin set his bombs in order. He took the 
smouldering slow match which the priest handed 
him, and placed it where it could be reached 
easily. Suddenly he turned to Hymer. 

“Priest,” he said, “will you come tool It 
would be a tremendous help if you w T ould throw 
the bombs,” explained Martin. “If there’s a 
storm I shall want both hands for the controls.” 

The priest’s deep-set eyes glowed. 

“I thank you, my friend,” he said. “There is 
nothing which would please me more greatly.” 

Stepping lightly as a boy, he followed Martin 
into the body of the Bat and took the observfer’s 
seat. 

Next moment the great engines roared, and the 
plane tore forward across the lake. 

There was no room to spare, and it took Martin 
all his time to rise before he reached the far bank. 
But he did it safely, and a few moments later was 
circling high above the roof of the palace. 


A FORCED LANDING 


199 


The appearance of the plane caused a sensation 
among the rebels. Many bolted for cover, but 
other, bolder, shot arrows at her in showers. Of 
course these failed to reach her, but all of a sud- 
den the huge catapult twanged, and a stone as big 
as a twelve-inch shell came whizzing up. It was 
so well aimed that Martin actually felt the wind 
of it as it hurtled past. 

‘ ‘ Close ! ’ ’ he said sharply, and turned to Hymer. 

“ I ’m going for them, ’ ’ he shouted. 4 ‘ When I ’m 
over that engine of theirs drop a bomb.” 

Hymer nodded to show he understood. His 
keen old face was glowing with excitement. So 
far from being frightened, he was actually enjoy- 
ing his rush through the air. 

Knowing how difficult it is to drop a bomb from 
a plane on a target, Martin had no notion that 
Hymer would get near the catapult. He swooped 
within a hundred feet of the ground, and exactly 
as he got to his lowest point the priest flung two 
bombs at once overboard. 

Suddenly he gave a great shout. Martin, bank- 
ing and circling, could hardly believe his eyes 
when he saw the catapult in ruins and the ground 
strewn with dead rebels. 

“Splendid!” he cried in delight. “That’s 
cooked their goose.” 


200 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


Hymer smiled grimly. 

“That has stopped Odan’s stone-throwing for 
a time,” he said in Martin’s ear. “But, remem- 
ber, it is only for a time. He will soon have a 
fresh catapult at work. Let us not waste more 
time upon his followers, but strike at once at the 
spot of which you spoke. ’ ’ 

Martin nodded, and wheeling again shot away 
across the town. 

The storm was rising fast, and the look of the 
sky reminded Martin of that black evening when 
he had first reached the island of the Lemurians. 
Monstrous masses of sooty vapor rose like ranges 
of mountains on every side, and, even at the height 
at which they flew, the air was hot, sullen, and 
lifeless. 

Speeding across the town they came to the sub- 
urbs where the great houses of the nobles stood, 
each in its own grounds. 

Like all the Lemurian houses, these were built 
of the same dark red, heavy stone. But the one to 
which Hymer pointed was larger, more massive, 
and more gloomy-looking than the rest. 

Martin put his lips close to the priest’s ear. 

“You are sure there are no women or chil- 
dren?” he asked. 

“I am sure,” replied Hymer quietly. “Odan 


A FORCED LANDING 


201 


hates women, and has none but men about him. 
Even his wife is not allowed in this fortress.’ ’ 

As he spoke he picked up one of the largest 
bombs, and next instant they were over the house 
and Martin sent the Bat swinging down close 
above the roof. Hymer had already touched off: 
the fuse of the bomb. Now he flung it down. 

It missed the house, but only by a yard or two, 
and the bomb exploded in the garden, flinging up 
a great spurt of earth and smoke. Martin turned 
instantly, and came back along the same line. 
This time Hymer made no mistake. His bomb 
dropped plumb in the center of the roof, and 
when the smoke cleared there was a hole big 
enough to drop a piano through. 

Half a dozen men came bolting out of the house, 
and vanished like rabbits into the shrubbery. 
Martin paid no attention to them, but banked back 
across the house. This third time Hymer ’s bomb 
went wide, but he was not discouraged. The 
fourth hit the house, the fifth and sixth did no 
harm, but the seventh seemed to disappear 
through the very hole the first had made. 

“That’s done it!” shouted Martin trium- 
phantly. ‘ ‘ That ’s done it ! ” 

“It has!” answered the priest grimly, as red 
flames came roaring through the gap. “Now to see 


202 MARTIN CRUSOE 

if the sight of his burning house will draw the 

rebel/ ’ 

Martin circled higher. 

“It has!” he cried, a moment later. “Here he 
comes, and his men with him.” 

Sure enough, Odan had left his post on the 
wharf, and he and a large number of his men 
were running at full speed towards the blazing 
house. The Lemurian nobles set great store by 
their palaces, and Odan’s one idea was to save 
his mansion from destruction. 

“Now for it,” said Martin grimly. “We have 
them in the open. With any luck we can finish 
them . 9 9 

Hymer’s deep-set eyes glowed with a strange 
fire. 

“If we can kill Odan himself,” he said, “the 
rebellion is at an end. But swing away, my 
friend. Fly away so that he may not see the trap 
we have prepared for him.” 

Martin rose higher, and flew inland. He was 
thinking of nothing but Odan. He knew now that 
the only w r ay to end the rebellion was to finish 
off its leader. Once Odan was killed, the whole 
thing would collapse, and all this horrible fight- 
ing and slaying of Odan’s unfortunate followers 
would be at an end. So set was his mind on this 


A FORCED LANDING 203 

that for the moment he had quite forgotten the 
storm. Suddenly the dark sky was lit by a blaze 
of vivid lightning, and on its heels came a dull, 
heavy rumble, like loaded carts crossing a hollow 
bridge. Then a gust of cold, wet wind caught the 
plane, making her dip and stagger with its force. 

Instantly Martin wheeled and faced it. 

Heavy as the gust was, it was nothing to what 
followed. In a moment a furious gale was howl- 
ing through the upper air. 

“We must get back!” cried Martin in Hymer’s 
ear. “We can never face this.” 

He opened his throttle to the widest, and headed 
the Bat back towards the Palace lake. It was 
too late. With a thrill of horror Martin realized 
that not all the force of the plane’s great engines 
could drive her into the teeth of this raging 
storm. 

Spinning like a leaf in the screaming air eddies, 
the Bat was forced backwards by the fury of the 
gale, and it was only a matter of seconds before 
Martin saw that his one chance of saving the lives 
of himself and Hymer was to make a landing as 
quickly as possible. 

Almost immediately beneath was the open space 
of Odan’s garden, which was protected on the 
windward side by a belt of thick trees. If he could 


20 4t 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


reach the ground behind these, he might still save 
the plane from utter destruction. 

From damage, no. That was impossible. The 
Bat, you will remember, was a seaplane, and had 
floats, not wheels, beneath her under carriage. 
Being fitted to alight only on water, Martin could 
not hope to bring her down on land without seri- 
ous damage. 

Down she went. So fierce was the wind that, 
although she was descending at a steep angle, 
Martin had to keep her engines going. 

Nearer the ground the gale was not quite so vio- 
lent as it had been higher up, and Martin was 
able to cut out. The big machine struck the turf 
with a heavy shock, and there was a crash which 
made Martin’s heart sink. The under carriage 
must surely be reduced to splinters. 

But there was no time to think of that. He and 
Hymer were unhurt, and now the one thing to do 
was to make the plane fast before the wind could 
blow her over and wreck her completely. 

Luckily he had plenty of rope in the cockpit; 
luckily, too, the priest’s muscles were equal to 
those of any two ordinary men. At the end of 
five minutes the Bat was lashed down so fir ml y 
that nothing short of a tornado could have 
wrenched her from her moorings. 


A FORCED LANDING 205 

Meantime, the clouds had thickened until it was 
almost as dark as night, but a darkness riven by 
flashes of intensely vivid lightning. Overhead the 
wind shrieked like a thousand demons, while the 
thunder crashed in deafening peals. 

So far not a drop of rain had fallen, but Martin 
knew it must come very soon. Hymer caught him 
by the arm and said something, but the din of 
wind and thunder together was so terrific that 
Martin could not hear a word. 

All the same, he understood. The priest was 
pointing towards Odan’s house, which was blaz- 
ing to the skies. Vast sheets of flame seized by 
the wind were carried away like torches. The 
glare lit the whole garden like day. All around 
the house men were working frantically, rushing 
up buckets of water from a pool in the garden. 
At their head was the monstrous figure of Odan 
himself, the crimson glow glaring on his golden 
armor. 

9 

It was too late. At that moment Odan, turning, 
caught sight of the plane. The roar that came 
from his deep throat rose even above the hideous 
racket of the storm, and, drawing his sword, he 
came rushing across the turf. 


CHAPTER XXn 


A BATTLE OF GIANTS 

Martin had no weapon of any sort with which to 
meet the rush of the mad giant, so leaped towards 
the plane to get a bomb. In a flash he had one 
but to his horror and despair he found that the 
slow match had burned out. Though he had 
matches about him it was useless to dream of 
lighting one in this furious gale. 

There was a clatter of metal on metal. He 
spun round, to see Odan and the priest fighting 
furiously. The priest had drawn his bronze 
sword, and was defending himself against the ter- 
rific onslaught of the rebel chief. 

At first sight the combat was terribly one-sided. 
Odan towered a foot and more above the short, 
squat figure of Hymer. His reach was double 
that of the priest, and his sword half as long 
again. On the face of it the priest was utterly 
outmatched. 

Martin rushed desperately forward. He was 
prepared to fling himself into the fray, bare- 
206 


A BATTLE OF GIANTS 207 

handed, rather than see his friend murdered be- 
fore his eyes. 

“Stand baek! ,, cried Hymer, in his great, deep, 
rolling voice. “Stand back. Think you that I 
cannot deal with this son of evil?” 

Martin paused, and suddenly realized that the 
combat was not so one-sided as he had at first sup- 
posed. If Odan had the height and reach, the 
priest had the strength of a bull, marvelous skill 
and complete confidence. While Odan fought like 
a mad beast, Hymer was cool and complete master 
offliimself. 

In the red glare of the blazing house the bronze 
swords flashed and wheeled like flames. Over- 
head the thunder bellowed like the crack of 
doom, and the gale shrieking across the island 
formed a fit accompaniment to this battle of 
giants. 

Odan’s followers were thick on the turf behind 
him. But they did not offer to interfere. They 
stood as still as Martin himself, watching the tre- 
mendous duel with fascinated eyes. 

Odan’s sword rose and fell like a hammer as 
he strove with all his might to beat down his ad- 
versary’s guard. But the priest’s wrist was 
wrought steel, and his skill of fence something to 
marvel at. With his short, stiff sword he wove 


208 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


around himself a ring of defense which even 
Odan’s mighty muscles could not penetrate. 

Odan’s face was a terrible sight. The man had 
gone berserk — fighting mad. His pale eyes glared 
horribly, there was foam upon his lips. He looked 
like nothing human. 

Suddenly he sprang back. Raising his sword 
above his head he brought it down with a force 
that would have cloven a horse in twain. Hymer 
warded the blow, yet its weight brought him to 
his knees. With a wild roar of triumph Odan 
swung up his sword once more to give the finish- 
ing blow. 

What happened next was so swift that Martin’s 
eyes could hardly follow it. In a flash Hymer was 
on his feet again, and, instead of springing away, 
or dodging aside from Odan’s next fearful ham- 
mer stroke, he leaped in after him. Odan’s flam- 
ing blade came whizzing downwards and sparks 
flew as it clashed on Hymer ’s helmet, felling the 
priest to the ground. But at the self-same instant 
the giant too staggered'back with a choking grunt, 
to drop full length upon the grass with a thud 
like that of a falling tree. For an instant there 
was silence. Even the fury of the storm seemed 
quelled for an instant. The only sound was the 
crackle of the flames devouring Odan’s palace. 


A BATTLE OF GIANTS 


209 


Odan tried to rise, but the blood was streaming 
from him, and Martin saw that Hymer’s sword 
had passed clean through his body just below his 
corselet. Then, with a hoarse cry, he fell back, 
dead. 

And then the heavens opened, and down came 
the rain, not in drops, but in solid sheets. 

For the time Martin stood quite still. He was 
like a man under a shower-bath, gasping for 
breath. Everywhere around him was a gray sheet 
of falling water. He could not see a yard. 

But the cold douche quickly pulled him together. 
A flash of lightning shone livid through the gloom, 
and showed Hymer lying where he had fallen, flat 
on his back on the streaming ground. 

Martin sprang towards him, seized him, and 
with a great effort of strength pulled him back 
under the nearest tree. He hardly knew why he 
did so, for he fully believed the splendid old priest 
to be dead. No human skull could have stood the 
crushing force of Odan’s last terrific blow. 

Though Odan was dead, though his men had 
vanished, though the rebellion would now, mo 
doubt, rapidly come to an end, yet Martin was 
sick at heart. During these days of stress and 
trial he had come to love the brave, resourceful 
priest, and to feel that in him he had a real friend. 


210 MARTIN CRUSOE 

Not since the news of his father’s death had he 

felt so miserable. 

The lightning flashed again, and in its blue glare 
Martin saw that Hymer ’s eyes were open! 

He caught his breath, and with trembling 
fingers began to loosen the clasps that held the 
helmet. 

He heard a deep sigh. 

‘ ‘ Hymer ! ’ ’ he cried. “ You are not dead ? 9 ’ 

“Dead!” repeated the priest; and Martin fairly 
gasped as Hymer raised himself to a sitting posi- 
tion. “Think you that Odan could kill me?” he 
asked scornfully. 

“I — I did think so,” stammered Martin. “I 
can’t tell you how glad I am to find that he has 
not.” 

The priest stretched out his great hand, found 
Martin’s, and gave it a crushing grip. 

“I would that I had a son like you,” he said. 

Then, as if ashamed of showing even a trace of 
his real feelings, he rose to his feet. 

“Where is Odan?” he demanded. 

‘ 4 Dead, ’ ’ replied Martin. 1 1 His body lies where 
it fell.” 

Hymer laughed. It was the first time that 
Martin had ever heard him laugh out loud, and 
the sound positively startled him. 


A BATTLE OF GIANTS 


211 

“Then we have done that which we set out to 
do,” said the priest. “The King is safe, and my 
life’s work is not wasted.” 

He stepped forward, and as the lightning 
flashed again found Odan’s body and stood over it. 

“So this is the end of all your scheming,” he 
said as he bent over the dead man. “Bitter it 
must be to fall by the hand of the man you most 
despised. Yet the souls of the dead cry for venge- 
ance, and the punishment is just.” 

He turned back to Martin. 

“The storm is passing,” he said. “We must 
return to the palace and fetch help. Odan’s body 
must be shown to his followers, and for that 
reason a bier must he brought to carry it into 
the city.” 

“But what about the plane!” asked Martin. 

“Trouble not. None will dare lay hands upon 
it. Let us go quickly.” 

Martin had learnt to trust Hymer, and the two 
started away together. The rain still fell heavily, 
but the wind had dropped, and the storm was 
passing quickly. 

The priest knew every inch of the ground, and, 
dark as it was, led Martin by a short cut to a gate 
at the back of the palace gardens. Here he 
knocked in a peculiar fashion, and at once 


212 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


one of tlieir own guards opened the heavy 
doors. 

The man’s face glowed with delight as he 
saluted Hymer in the Lemurian fashion. 

“We feared for you, my lord,” he said respect- 
fully. 

“Fear not,” answer Hymer gravely. “Odan 
is dead.” 

The man gave a shout of joy, and, falling at 
Hymer ’s feet, embraced his knees. 

Hymer raised him. “Lock the gate, Valkar,” 
he said; “then go and inform your companions. 
And be ready as speedily as possible with a litter 
and twenty guards. We go to fetch the body of 
our enemy.” 

The man darted away. Hymer and Martin went 
on into the palace. 

At the gate they met Akon, his fine face white 
and drawn with anxiety. His relief at seeing 
them was touching, for, like the guard, he had 
not believed they could have survived the tem- 
pest. 

But when they told him that Odan was dead, he 
shouted with gladness and rushed away to tell the 
king. 

Like magic the news was all over the palace, 
and such a din of cheering rose that Martin, who 


A BATTLE OF GIANTS 


213 


had looked on the people of the island as a grave 
and solemn race, could hardly believe his ears. 

Akon himself went out in charge of the party 
who were to bring home the body, and in about an 
hour the corpse of 1 the rebel leader lay in state in 
the temple. 

But by this time Martin, who was almost dead 
from fatigue, was sound asleep in his bed. 


CHAPTER XXIII 
THE WAVE 


Martin, working over the Bat in the big boat- 
house on the quay, straightened himself, stretched 
his arms, and looked round over the quiet town 
and the harbor basking in the hot sunshine. 

He turned to the priest who was standing by, 
translating Martin’s orders to the workmen. “I 
could not have believed it,” he said, in a tone of 
wonder. 4 * Even though you had told me before- 
hand, I could never have believed that the rebel- 
lion would fizzle out like this.” 

Hymer smiled in his grave way. 

“They have no one to take the place of Odan,” 
he explained. “If Odan had had a son then all 
might have been different. Odan, you must un- 
derstand, had a certain claim to the throne by 
kinship with the king. Without such kinship none 
would dare to set himself up. As it is, the mal- 
contents are only too anxious to make amends 
lest they be deprived of their lands and wealth.” 

“And what are you doing about that!” asked 
Martin. 


214 


THE WAVE 


215 


“We are requiring them to repair the damage 
which they have done, and to pay money to the 
widows of those killed in the fighting. That is 
all.” 

Martin nodded. “The very best thing you 
could do. Those who have any sense will be 
grateful to be let off so lightly. Hymer, you 
ought to be Prime Minister of one of the big coun- 
tries in Europe.” 

Hymer smiled again. “I am content,” he said. 
“If I have helped to save my own people, I can 
die in peace.” 

He looked at Martin very kindly. 

“And you, my son, think you that we can repair 
this flying machine so that she will again rise ? ’ ’ 

“Pm sure we can,” declared Martin. “Why, 
the work is almost finished! These men are as 
skilful mechanics as any in America. They need 
only to be told, and the work is done.” 

“And when it is done you will fly away and 
leave us, is it not so?” asked Hymer sadly. 

“I must, of course, return to the other island,” 
said Martin, “and I must go to America to pay 
the debts left by my father. But I shall come 
back. Be sure of that. I should never 
dream ” 

A sharp cry from one of the workmen inter- 


216 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


rupted him. Martin turned quickly, and saw the 
man pointing out to sea. 

A great wave as high as a wall was coursing 
majestically in from the open sea. Even as Mar- 
tin watched, it reached the land, and broke in- 
wards upon the beach with a sullen, thunderous 
roar. At the harbor mouth it did not break, but 
came sweeping up the entrance like the tidal wave 
in the Bay of Fundy. 

“A tidal wave!” cried Martin sharply. 
“Hymer, tell them to shut the outer gates of the 
boathouse. Quickly! If we get that wave in 
here it will play the mischief with the Bat.” 

But the priest’s keen old eyes had already seen 
what was happening, and before Martin had fin- 
ished speaking he was snapping out orders to the 
men. 

Half a dozen leapt to close the great double 
doors of the boathouse. Others wedged them with 
heavy balks of timber. 

Fortunately the plane herself was not in the 
water. It was her under carriage that had been 
damaged, and, in order to get at her, she had been 
raised upon a sort of platform above the floating 
stage. 

For the next minute or two everyone in the boat- 
house worked with a breathless fury of haste. 


THE WAVE 


217 


Then all that could be done had been done, and 
there was nothing left but to watch the glassy 
swell coursing swiftly up the harbor from the sea. 

As Martin looked out through an opening under 
the roof, he saw that it was very close. Next 
moment, with a low soughing roar, it was upon 
them. The boathouse rocked and creaked under 
the great weight of water heaped against it. The 
floats rose with a loud clatter. Martin, looking 
down from his perch high in the scaffolding under 
the roof, saw the whole interior of the place filled 
with seething foam, and held his breath in agony, 
expecting to see the Bat swamped, torn down, and 
wrecked. 

But the water fell as quickly as it had risen, and 
dropped, bubbling and muddy, to its former level, 
while the wave went roaring swiftly away up 
into the small creeks which ran far inland. 

“ Close call ! ’ ? panted Martin, as he dropped 
back on to the soaking, swinging stage. “But, 
thanks be, the Bat’s all right. Priest, do you 
often get these tidal waves!” 

Hymer looked much disturbed. 

“Never have I known one such as this,” he 
answered, “though from old men I have heard of 
them in past times. Great, I fear, must be the 
harm wrought along the coast. But why,” he 


218 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


added — “ why call it a tidal wave? No tide has 
power to raise itself suddenly to so great a 
height.” 

‘ ‘ You are right, ’ 9 replied Martin. i 1 It is merely 
a name which we give to such waves. In reality 
it is doubtless an earthquake wave caused by some 
opening or commotion under the bed of the sea. ’ ’ 

“Of a truth, that is the more likely cause,” said 
Hymer. “Where, think you, did this earthquake 
take place ? 9 9 

Martin’s face had gone suddenly pale. Instead 
of answering, he flung open the door on the land- 
ward side of the boathouse and rushed up the 
flight of steps leading to the quay. Hymer, watch- 
ing him with wonder, saw him stand there strain- 
ing his eyes across the sea towards the distant 
white sugar-loaf which was the snow-clad peak 
surmounting Lost Island. 

Suddenly a suspicion of the reason for Mar- 
tin’s anxiety came into his mind, and he followed 
him quickly. 

“Look!” panted Martin, as the priest joined 
him. “Look! It is as I feared. The eruption has 
begun.” 


CHAPTER XXIV 


A DESPERATE VENTURE 

Hymer looked. Behind and beyond the great cone 
of the volcano a dark cloud was slowly spreading. 
Though the other island was so far away that 
even the lofty mountain appeared no larger than 
a toy, the cloud was rising fast enough for Martin 
and Hymer to watch its growth. It was spouting 
upwards like the smoke from the explosion of a 
submarine mine. 

“You mean that the water has reached the 
molten rock in the pit of which you have told 
me?” said Hymer. 

“I am terribly afraid so,” Martin answered. 
“Hymer, Professor Distin assured me that if this 
happened the sea would turn to steam and blow 
the whole island te atoms. And there is the poor 
Professor left helpless with Scipio and that 
remaining Norseman — left to perish without even 
a boat to take them away.” 

Martin paused a moment, then his fane hard- 
ened. 

“There is but one thing to do,” he added. “As 


219 


220 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


soon as ever the Bat’s floats can be fixed, I must 
fly back and give what help I can.” 

Hymer caught him by the arm. 

“You are mad, boy,” he said in a tone which 
Martin had never before heard from him. “You 
are mad to suggest such a thing. When moun- 
tains burn the air is rent so that no bird even 
could fly through the whirlwinds that rise in fury 
to the skies. Be advised by me,” he implored. 
“Do not go. We will send one of our fastest 
ships, manned by our strongest rowers. You and 
I will go with the ship.” 

Martin shook his head. 

“The ship will take many hours; I shall take 
but one,” he answered. “Believe me, Hymer, it 
is the only chance to save my friends. Do not try 
to stop me.” 

The priest gazed at Martin in silence for several 
seconds. He saw the dogged set of Martin’s jaw, 
and realized that nothing he could say would be 
of any avail. He sighed heavily, then turned to 
the men, and ordered them to get on with the 
repairs at the top of their speed. Martin himself 
snatched up his tools, and flung himself into the 
work with savage energy. 

The news that Martin was leaving the island 
had spread far and wide, and that evening, when 


A DESPERATE VENTURE 


221 


at last the Bat was ready, and lying upon the 
water alongside the great floats, a huge crowd 
had congregated on the broad quay. 

It was a strange scene. Night had fallen, a 
night still, oppressively hot, and darker than 
Martin had ever known — a night, indeed, on which 
it would have been impossible to fly without land- 
marks of some sort. But the mark in this case 
was only too clear and plain. Out across the sea 
in the direction of Lost Island a lurid glow rose 
against the blackness like a pillar of molten metal. 
Every now and then this pillar seemed to heave 
and throb, and some minutes after each of these 
upheavals a dull thud would come to the ears of 
the watchers, a sound like that of some monstrous 
gun fired a few miles out to sea. Terrible things 
were happening out there, and Martin was sick 
with anxiety for the fate of the Professor and the 
kindly Scipio. 

And now there was a stir in the throng of silent 
watchers and a gasp of amazement. All eyes were 
turned towards a row of torches which ap- 
proached from the direction of the palace and 
upon the great gold-encrusted litter which a 
score of tall Norsemen bore down towards the 
quay. 

Martin, sitting in the boathouse, hastily eating 


222 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


food which, servants had brought from the palace, 
heard the stir and looked up. 

“It is the king,” said Hymer, who sat with him 
— “the king who comes to say adieu and to see 
you start upon this journey of yours.” 

Martin jumped up. 

“It is more than kind of him,” he said. 

“It is a great honor, my son — such an honor 
as never yet, within my remembrance, has been 
paid to any save of the royal race.” 

Martin ran quickly up the broad steps to 
the wharf, and was in time to see the king descend 
from the litter. Akon was with him, and the king, 
still rather pale from his long illness, took the 
arm of his giant son and stepped forward. 

He was a royal figure. The glare of the torches 
shed a ruddy light upon his snowy hair, his white 
tunic edged with purple, and the gold of his head- 
dress and breastplate. 

The crowds had made way, but all around was 
a sea of faces, white and brown. The people were 
very quiet; indeed, hardly a whisper was to be 
heard among them. 

The king released Akon’s arm and gave Martin 
both his hands. 

“Englishman,” he said gravely, “I have come 
to wish you Godspeed upon your perilous journey. 


A DESPERATE VENTURE 


223 


I would that you could have been content to take 
the ship which Hymer offered you, yet I will not 
attempt to dissuade you from flying to the help 
of your friends. But this I beg of you to remem- 
ber — that in this country, for which you have done 
so much, you and any dear to you will always 
find a home. ’ , 

Martin dropped upon one knee, and kissed the 
hand of the old man. 

“King,” he answered, “in the name of my 
friends and of myself, I thank you. If I come 
through safely, I shall, I trust, he hack within a 
few hours with my friends. If not, I shall have 
died with them. In any case, believe me that I 
am most grateful for all the kindness I have re- 
ceived at your hands, at those of Prince Akon, 
and of the chief priest Hymer.” 

Akon stepped forward. 

“The gold, Martin! Have you forgotten the 
gold which you needed? It is all ready for 
you.” 

Martin laughed a little. 

“My dear Akon,” he answered, “the gold will 
have to wait. I must not carry a pound extra. 
Indeed, I do not know whether it will be possible 
to carry both my friends here in the Bat. It is 
for that reason that Hymer has already des- 


22 4 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


patched a galley to pick me up in case I cannot 
get back with such a weight aboard.” 

Akon nodded gravely. 

“I understand,” he said. “The gold shall be 
kept to await your return. But there is one small 
matter which I will ask you to take.” 

As he spoke he pressed a small bag of soft 
leather into Martin’s hand. 

“They are luck stones,” he said — “luck stones 
from the sea. They belonged to my mother, and 
she believed that they brought health and happi- 
ness. Take them, I beg of you, my friend, and 
may they bring you through this peril safely!” 

Martin was deeply touched. 

“Thank you a thousand times, Akon,” he said 
warmly. “I will take them gladly. And now, 
good-by; and if you do not see me again, be sure 
that I shall not forget you as long as I live. ’ ’ 

Akon squeezed Martin’s hand in his giant grip. 
Martin bowed once more to the king, then, turn- 
ing, hurried down to his waiting plane, and 
stepped into the cockpit. 

Hymer stood by him. 

“Good-by, my son,” he said, and his deep, 
rumbling voice was not quite steady. Martin 
could hardly believe his own eyes when he saw 
those of the stern old priest were wet with tears. 


A DESPERATE VENTURE 


225 


“ Good-by, and may your God and mine pre- 
serve you,” he ended. 

One last handshake, then Martin put over the 
switch of the self-starter. The engine broke into 
roaring life, sending echoes clattering through 
the night, and the Bat glided out on to the broad, 
smooth bosom of the harbor. 

It was at this instant that the crowd, roused 
suddenly from their silence, burst out into a tre- 
mendous shout — a roar so tremendous that it 
drowned the deafening exhaust from the Bat’s 
great engines. 

And, with this royal farewell ringing in his 
ears, Martin rose from the water, and, rushing 
upwards into the black starless night started out 
upon such an errand as never yet even flying man 
had attempted. 


CHAPTER XXV 


A NIGHT OF TERROR 

The sound of the shouting died away, and Martin 
was alone, winging his way at full speed through 
the hot blackness of the night, guided only by the 
lurid glow which pulsed against the distant 
horizon. 

There was not a breath of wind. Even at the 
height at which he flew, which was about two 
thousand feet, the atmosphere was as deadly stag- 
nant and hot as at sea level. 

Yet the air was not still. Every now and then 
the great plane would seem to check and stagger 
slightly like a ship whose keel touches the top of 
a sandbank. Martin did not need to be told that 
these air bumps were the result of the regularly 
recurring explosions from the great crater on 
Lost Island. 

He knew the farther he went and the nearer he 
approached the scene of the eruption, the worse 
these shocks would affect him. 

Yet he hardly gave a thought to the dangers 
that confronted him; it was the peril of his friend, 
226 


A NIGHT OF TERROR 227 

the Professor, that filled his mind to the exclusion 
of everything else. 

He thought of him sitting helpless in the cave 
rooms, the solid rock quivering under the throb 
of the subterranean fires, waiting for the help that 
might never come. 

Fast as he flew, the pace was not fast enough 
for Martin. 

His eyes were fixed on the glow on the sky- 
line, and every minute it widened and deep- 
ened. 

And, just as he had expected, the force of the 
explosions grew more and more heavy, until, as 
each air wave struck her, the Bat seemed to pitch 
like a ship in a heavy storm. 

At the end of half an hour he was near enough 
to see the actual explosions — the columns of 
molten matter shooting up like a fountain of fire 
through the dull-red smoke clouds, which hung 
like a pall over the lower part of the island. 

The twin peaks were above the worst of this 
smoke. Their eternal snows still gleamed rosy 
red in the glare of the lower fires. 

Martin took some courage from the sight. At 
any rate, the great explosion anticipated by the 
Professor had not yet come. 

There was still hope that the cave itself was 


228 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


safe. The lake lying between it and the crater 
itself must be some safeguard. 

Far below Martin caught a glimpse of a small 
light in the gloom. This must be the galley sent 
out by Hymer. He wondered if it would ever 
reach Lost Island, yet the mere fact that it was 
trying to do so made him feel less lonely. 

On he drove, but the pitching and lurching grew 
worse and worse ; and now the loud thuds of the 
constant explosions became audible even above 
the rattling roar of his engines, and the air was 
so terribly disturbed that at times the big plane 
became almost unmanageable. 

The volcanic cloud was rising, and in it and 
through it played lightnings, gold, green and vio- 
let — beautiful yet terrible fireworks. The heavy 
air was tainted with sulphur smoke, which caught 
Martin’s throat and made him choke. 

Though he could feel no wind, some current was 
drifting the smoke down in his direction, and he 
turned northwards with the idea of circlng around 
the worst of it, and coming in from the eastward 
side. 

Sure enough, he soon cleared the smoke; and 
as soon as he had done so, the island itself opened 
before him. The sight was at once splendid and 
terrible. The crater which the Professor had 


A NIGHT OF TERROR 


229 


showed him was in full blast, and lava was stream- 
ing in a vast river of fire through the rift into the 
deep tarn. Where the molten rock reached the 
water the lake was a seething cauldron of steam. 

The intense glow flung up from the crater itself 
and from the great sheet of white-hot lava threw 
a lurid glare on the tall cliffs surrounding the 
tarn, and showed up everything as clear as day. 

As Martin came nearer he could see that the 
cliffs on the cave side of the lake were still un- 
touched, and he felt somewhat comforted. There 
was hope that the Professor and Scipio might still 
be unharmed. 

But the explosions seemed to be more frequent 
and more furious than ever, and as he came near 
to the sea entrance to the loch, each air wave hit 
the plane with a force that sent her fluttering like 
a dead leaf. 

To alight on that boiling lake within less than 
two miles of the raging crater itself seemed sheer 
suicide, yet Martin stuck to it. He had not come 
thus far to turn back. 

He was within half a mile of the inlet when 
there came a shock more violent than any yet. 
Martin suddenly found the Bat dropping help- 
lessly towards the sea. It was as though the air 
column beneath him had failed altogether. 


230 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


He did the only thing he could, and tried to hold 
her in a volplane, or sliding descent. But she was 
barely fifty feet above the sea before he succeeded 
in pulling her up, and even then he could not get 
her nose up again. In another moment she had 
taken the water with a terrific splash. 

For a moment Martin believed that the Bat 
was wrecked. But the Lemurians were good 
craftsmen, and the stout pontoons which they had 
built in beneath her stood the shock. She floated 
safely. 

Martin switched on his engine, and found that 
it was working. But he did not dare to rise again. 
Instead he taxied in across the calm sea, and 
was presently between the tall cliffs which 
bounded the narrow passage leading into the 
lake. 

The noise was deafening. Each separate ex- 
plosion was enough to split his ear drums. The 
water, almost boiling hot, was covered with a thick 
scum of ashes and pumice, among which floated 
the dead bodies of countless fish and other deni- 
zens of the deep sea-lake. 

Swirling through this horrible mixture, the Bat 
ran swiftly out of the channel into the lake itself, 
and as she did so a wave of heat struck Martin’s 
face like the blast from a furnace. He swung to 


A NIGHT OF TERROR 231 

the right, and drove as hard as he could go for 
the harbor. 

All over the lake itself steam clouds hung like 
vapor from a boiling pot. Martin could hardly 
see where he was going. The din, too, was so 
great that it confused him, while the explosions 
were absolutely stunning in their fury. 

The black wall of the cliff loomed up overhead 
through the smother, and more by luck than skill 
Martin found that he was at the entrance of the 
harbor. 

He breathed a sigh of thankfulness as he passed 
into it, and the rock arch shut out something of 
the appalling glamor. 

The gates were wide open, and the next mo- 
ment he was tying up alongside the well-remem- 
bered rock wharf. He sprang ashore. The 
launch was still there, but there was no sign of the 
Professor, and the first thing that met his eyes 
was a huge mass of rock which had crashed down 
from the roof above, and, falling in the center of 
the flight of stairs, had broken away the steps and 
covered everything with rubble and dust. It was 
plain that there had been a heavy earthquake 
already, and Martin knew that another might 
come at any moment. 

> Scrambling past the mass of broken rock, he 


232 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


reached the Hall of Pillars, and ran through it, 
shouting for the Professor. 

Even here he could still feel the thud of the 
explosions, while the solid rock trembled con- 
stantly, and every few moments small pieces of 
rock fell from the vaulted roof. 

He reached the^reat living-room. It was much 
as he remembered it, with the Professor’s books 
scattered on the table. But the great glass win- 
dows were cracked and starred, and dust was over 
everything. 

“ Professor !” he shouted again at the top of his 
voice. Then the curtains of the doorway were 
pushed aside, and there was Professor Distin 
standing in the opening. 

He stood quite still, staring at Martin as though 
he saw a ghost, and Martin was grieved to see 
how thin and frail he looked. 

Martin sprang forward. “It’s all right, Pro- 
fessor,” he cried. “But I was scared stiff. 
I couldn’t find you. I thought you were 
dead.” 

The Professor seized Martin’s hand and wrung 
it hard. 

“My dear lad,” he said, “I can’t tell you how 
glad I am to see you. I had given you up for 
lost.” 


A NIGHT OF TERROR 


233 


For the moment the two were so delighted at 
meeting again that they forgot the deadly peril 
in which they stood. 

“But how T did you get here?” went on the 
Professor. 4 ‘ Surely not in the Bat ? 9 ’ 

6 i Indeed, I did. She is in the cave harbor this 
minute. She had been damaged, but I rushed over 
as soon as she was mended to get you out of this 
as quick as ever I could. I’d half expected you 
would have started in the launch when this first 
began . 9 9 

“So we should, Martin, but we were unable to 
do so. The eruption began with an earthquake, 
and a great piece of rock fell from the roof upon 
the Norseman Thur, the prisoner you left behind. 
He was dreadfully injured, and, even if Scipio 
and I could have carried him, was not fit to be 
moved. But we could not carry him, so had to 
remain with the poor fellow.” 

Martin gave a low whistle of dismay. “That’s 
serious,” he said. “But see here, Professor, we 
simply dare not stay another minute. The ex- 
plosions are getting worse all the time. Suppose 
the whole sea-bed caves in, as you said it might? 
That will be the end of the island and of all 
of us.” 

“That is what I fear,” replied the Professor 


234 « 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


gravely. “Yet I know you will agree with me that 
we cannot leave the unfortunate man to lie here 
alone in his agony. ’ ’ 

Martin was wondering what on earth he could 
say next when the curtain was flung aside, and in 
rushed Scipio. 

At sight of Martin he pulled up short and stood, 
glaring. His mouth was wide open, and his eyes 
goggling. Martin laughed. 

‘ ‘It’s all right, Scipio ,’ 9 he said. “Don’t be 
scared. It’s myself and nobody else.” 

“Den I don’t care if dis old island blows up de 
next minute ! ’ ’ shouted Scipio in delight. 

The Professor cut him short. “Why have you 
left Thur, Scipio?” he asked sharply. 

Scipio started. “Bress my soul! I done clean 
forgot. De poor chap am dead, boss. ” 

“Dead?” cried the Professor; and ran out of 
the room. 

He was back in less than a minute. 

“You are right,” he said sorrowfully. “Per- 
haps it is as well. He could never have recovered. 
Then, Martin, we had better pack up and leave 
with all speed.” 

“Pack up?” exclaimed Martin. “Good 
Heavens, sir, we can’t wait to pack. Scipio, is 
there food in the launch?” 


A NIGHT OF TERROR 235 

“Yes, Marse Martin, plenty of grab and a bar- 
rel of water.” 

‘ 4 Then come on, ’ ’ cried Martin ; and, seizing the 
Professor by the arm, dragged him away through 
the pillared hall. 

As they reached the top of the steps there came 
a shock as though a magazine of dynamite had 
exploded outside. All three were thrown down 
heavily. 

Before they could gain their feet again there 
was a tremendous rushing sound, and a wave as 
high as the roof itself came thundering into the 
tunnel. 

Rushing forward it flung itself with fearful 
force against the stone stairs, sending hot spray 
flying to their summit. Then it sank back, 
gurgling and seething. 

“The Bat!” gasped Martin. 

“And de launch!” groaned Scipio. 

Both were gone ! 


CHAPTER XXVI 


THE ESCAPE FROM THE CAVE 

For some moments no one spoke again. The 
three simply stood and stared at the dark, heav- 
ing water in the tnnnel. A few shattered remains 
of the plane floated up amid the turmoil, but both 
that and the launch were gone. The catastrophe 
had been so sudden and overwhelming that it left 
them in a state of dull despair. 

The Professor was the first to speak. 

“I am afraid this means the end of us,” he said, 
very quietly. 

“It’s jest de eberlasting finish,” groaned 
Scipio. 

Martin shook himself as if trying to rouse out 
of a bad dream. 

“No,” he said sharply. “We must not give 
up. The Lemurians are sending a galley for us.” 

Professor Histin looked up in surprise. 

“A galley?” he repeated. 

“Yes. Oh, they are quite friendly now. But 
I’ll tell you all about that later. The galley 
236 


THE ESCAPE FROM THE CAVE 237 

started before I did. I passed her about half- 
way here. I don’t suppose she can make it in this 
darkness, but she ought to be here in the morn- 
ing. What we have to do is to find'the safest place 
we can, and wait until morning. As soon as it’s 
light shy 11 reach the island.” 

“If dei*^ is any island,” put in Scipio dolefully. 
“De Professor, he say de whole place gwine to 
blow up like* a gunpowder bar’l wen de match 
drops in.” 

‘ ‘ Don ’t kick, ’ ’ said Martin sharply. 1 i It hasn ’t 
blown up yet, ank I dare say it will last till we 
are taken off. The question is, do we stay here 
where we are out of the way of the ash and 
smoke, or do we get outside somewhere? What 
do you say, Professor!” 

“I should say that we should be distinctly safer 
outside,” answered the Professor in his calm, dry 
way. “Another shock such as the last is very 
likely to bring the roof down, and even if it does 
not fall upon us it may block our way out. Re- 
member that we cannot leave by the harbor now 
that our boats are gone.” 

Martin looked round, and his eyes fell on the 
mass of broken rock from the roof which covered 
the steps behind them. 

“I expect you’re right, sir. Then I suppose 


238 MARTIN CRUSOE 

we’d best go out by the way leading to the 

garden?” 

“We must try that,” replied the Professor. 

6 1 Then the sooner the better,” said Martin 
briskly; “a narrow passage like that is easily 
blocked. ’ ’ 

He led the way back up the steps, and the others 
followed. The electric lights were still burning, 
casting their clear, white glow over the rubbish 
strewn on the floor of the Pillared Hall. Small 
pieces were still falling in every direction ; and no 
wonder, for the whole place — floor, sides and roof 
— quivered continually, exactly like the lid of a 
boiling kettle, and the explosions went on at rapid 
intervals. Though they could not hear, they could 
feel them plainly. 

‘ ‘We’d better get some grub,” said Martin. 
“ There won’t be much left outside. Some water, 
too.” 

“Dere ain’t much water, Marse Martin,” said 
Scipio. “De stream done stopped when de fust 
big shake came. And most ob de rest I put in de 
launch tanks. Still, I reckon dere’s some in de 
jug.” 

He ran through the living-room into the 
kitchen and came out with a big bottle full of 
water. 


THE ESCAPE FROM THE CAVE 239 


“Dat’s all dere’s left,” he said. “And I got a 
tin ob beef an’ a few biscuits.” 

“Better than nothing,” replied Martin cheer- 
fully. He knew better than the others what was 
before them outside, and was anxious to keep up 
their spirits. 

They made their way down the tunnel leading 
to the garden entrance. The rock quivered hor- 
ribly, but happily the roof was still sound. As 
they got near the entrance the roaring of the vol- 
cano became dreadful. 

“Sounds like some ugly great debbil was await- 
ing for us,” said Scipio, with a shiver of dread. 

The Professor unlocked the gate, and they 
stepped out into a darkness that might be felt. 
So thick was the air with smoke and ashes that 
even the lurid glare from the great pit of fire, 
barely two miles away, was hardly visible. Just 
as they got outside there was another convulsion. 
A vast sheet of dull red flame lifted itself into the 
night, and the tortured island shook with the fierce 
shock of it. The Professor would have fallen had 
not Martin caught and held him. 

And then — a heavy thud close by followed by a 
series of splintering crashes ! 

“ My golly! Dat mountain’s a-throwing rocks 
at us !” gasped Scipio. 


240 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


“Scipio is right,” said the Professor to Martin. 
“It will be best to remain under cover in the 
mouth of the tunnel. ’ * 

“I suppose it will,” replied Martin, and the 
three moved back into shelter, and sat down on 
the bare rock floor of the passage. 

Martin looked at his wrist watch. It was a 
little past eleven. Seven hours to dawn, and noth- 
ing to do but wait. 

It was the longest and most terrible night that 
any of them had ever passed. The din was fright- 
ful, the air almost unbreathable, and about two in 
the morning the last bit of comfort, the electric 
light, went out, leaving them in black darkness, 
lit only by the glare of explosions from the 
crater. 

The crash and thunder of these were deafening, 
and at times it seemed as if the whole island was 
going to pieces beneath them. 

They tried to talk, but the foul gases in the air 
caught their throats and parched their mouths 
so that they could hardly speak. At times each 
had a sip of lukewarm water from the bottle, but 
as this was all they had they were obliged to be 
very careful with it. As for food none of them 
could touch it. 

Luckily for them the roof of the tunnel was 


THE ESCAPE FROM THE CAVE 241 


solid rock, and in spite of the constant earth- 
quakes did not break or fall. 

The worst of things comes to an end, and at last 
a sickly yellow light began to break through the 
foul gloom, and they knew that somewhere the sun 
was shining. Martin touched the Professor’s 
arm. 

4 4 Time to be moving,” he said quietly. 

The Professor staggered to his feet. The hor- 
rors of the night had left him very weak and 
helpless. Martin took his arm and held him 
firmly. 

44 A bit stiff,” said the old man hoarsely. He 
was as plucky as they make them, and would not 
give in. 

4 ‘It’s not so bad as it was,” Martin said hope- 
fully. 4 4 The explosions are less violent, and there 
are no more stones falling.” 

4 4 An’ dat’s a mighty good job, too,” put in 
Scipio. 4 4 De Professor say my skull mighty thick, 
but I jest know one of dem rocks would dent it 
bad.” 

In spite of everything Martin laughed, and the 
three men moved slowly through the deep ash in 
the direction of the sea. 

The whole face of the island was changed. Not 
a green thing was to be seen anywhere. The 


242 MARTIN CRUSOE 

drifts of ash were knee-deep in places, while great 
black, burnt-looking rocks littered the ground in 
every direction. But the worst of it was the huge 
cracks and crevices which seamed the torn earth 
in every direction. Some gaped six feet wide, 
running down to fearful depths. 

The little party had to probe the ground with a 
stick before each step, for many of these cracks 
were so hidden under the masses of ash that they 
might have walked into one without seeing it. 

The Professor glanced up the slope to where 
some skeleton trunks stood out above the black- 
ened waste. 

“My poor garden !” he said sadly. 

Martin’s heart ached for him. All these years 
of work gone within a few hours. And the Pro- 
fessor was too old to start again — at least in this 
life. 

“There’s the sea!” said Martin, pointing. He 
wanted to get the Professor’s thoughts off the 
ruin of the once beautiful island. 

There was the sea indeed — but such a sea ! As 
far as eye could reach, it was gray with floating 
ash. Banks of foul vapor hung in the heavy air. 
The whole sky was clouded with smoke from the 
crater. 

“It’s getting lighter,” continued Martin, try- 


THE ESCAPE FROM THE CAVE 243 


ing to speak cheerfully. “And there’s a little air 
moving. I dare say we shall soon be able to see 
the galley.” 

“Let us get out upon the point over there,” 
said the Professor. “We shall get a good view 
from that height, and we shall be farther from the 
crater, too.” 

Martin nodded, and they started away to the 
left. It took them an hour, and the Professor was 
very weary before they reached it. Martin made 
him sit down under a projecting shelf of rock 
facing the sea, and gave him a little water. 

By this time the air was clearer. A good breeze 
was blowing from the north-west, and the horizon 
was rapidly widening. The volcano, too, seemed 
to have done its worst. The eruptions were less 
frequent and less violent. 

Scipio had climbed to the highest point, and 
stood watching the sea. Presently they heard him 
yell. 

‘ ‘ Dere ’s the ship, boss ! I done see him ! ’ ’ 

Martin leaped up beside him. Sure enough 
there was the galley some six or seven miles away. 
Martin stared at her. 

“What’s dem folk doing, Marse Martin?” 
asked Scipio, with a puzzled frown. “Dey ain’t 
a-coming dis way ! ’ ’ 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


2U 

“You’re right,” replied Martin, slowly. “I 
can’t make it out. They’re going away to the 
north. ’ ’ 

His field-glasses were slung in a case at his 
side. He took them out and focussed them on 
the vessel. Now he could see her plainly. He 
noticed that the oars were rising and falling 
very slowly, and that she was moving at a mere 
crawl. 

“Scipio, she can’t get here,” he said dully. 

“For do goodness sake, why not?” demanded 
Scipio. 

“The weed. The weed has been driven in by 
some freak of the current, or, more likely, by the 
tidal wave. It’s all round the island, a regular 
barrier.” 

Scipio ’s black face turned a slaty gray. His 
eyes were full of fear. 

“Den we’s got to stay hyah, boss?” 

“It looks like it,” replied Martin heavily. 

“Who’s gwine to tell the Professor?” de- 
manded Scipio. 

For answer Martin turned and scrambled down 
the rock. 

The Professor, tired out, was dozing in his 
refuge. His old face looked deeply lined and 
worn. But there was no use in putting off the 


THE ESCAPE FROM THE CAVE 245 

ill tidings. Martin roused him and told him what 
had happened. 

For a moment the Professor looked badly 
frightened, but only for a moment. Then he was 
his quiet self again. 

“My poor boy!” he said quietly. 

“Me! Never mind about me,” returned Mar- 
tin. “It’s you I’m thinking about.” 

The professor shook his head. 

“It matters little about me, Martin. My race 
is nearly run. It is different for a boy like you. 
But we will not give up,” he continued. “The 
eruption seems to be over. The cave is still safe, 
and there is food in it. Let us go back and see 
what we can do.” 

Martin shook his head. 

“You forget, sir,” he said. “There may.be 
food, but there is no water. The stream has 
stopped, and that was our only source of supply. 
If we can’t find some way of getting off the island 
I am afraid that we are done for.” 


CHAPTER XXVII 


IN THE NICK OF TIME 

Some hours had passed. The air was much 
clearer, and the volcano was certainly quieting 
down. But in the stronger light the look of the 
island was more desolate and dreadful than ever. 

Martin and Scipio had got the Professor back 
into the cave, then had climbed the mountain to 
the very source of the brook. There was no brook 
any longer. Not a drop of water was left, while 
the fierce heat of the eruption had so entirely de- 
stroyed the snow-cap of the mountain that even if 
' they had climbed the precipices, they could not 
have got any ice to melt down. 

As for the galley, she had disappeared over the 
horizon. Her people had done their best to get 
through, but no ship that ever floated could have 
pierced the great barrier of weed. Without the 
plane Lost Island was as completely shut off from 
Lemuria as if it had been on the other side of 
the world. 

Martin and Scipio were both suffering tortures 
from thirst. They had saved the little drop of 
246 


IN THE NICK OF TIME 247 

water left for the Professor. Unless it rained — 
and that seemed very unlikely — they were doomed 
to die the most horrible of deaths. 

Coming back to the cave after their fruitless 
climb, Scipio was very down in the mouth. 

“It ain’t so much about myself I’se worrying, 
Marse Martin,” he said; “it’s de Professor what 
I got on my mind. Yo’ see, I always done cooked 
for him nicely, but now I can’t cook no more ’cos 
dere ain’t no water to cook with.” 

“We mustn’t give up,” answered Martin. 
“The Lemurians will do all they know to get 
through the weed. The priest is a clever man, 
and he won’t leave us to die if he can help it.” 

“Den oughtn’t we to hab a watch out?” sug- 
gested Scipio. 

“You’re right, Scipio. We ought. You wait 
outside and I’ll relieve you when I’ve seen the 
Professor.” 

Scipio nodded. Martin went into the cave. He 
found the Professor in the ruins of the workshop. 

“I am trying to build a still,” he said feebly. 
“Then we could distil some sea water. The worst 
of it is I have no copper piping. Also, most of 
my tools are buried.” 

“I’ll help,” said Martin hoarsely. His throat 
was so dry he could hardly speak, and he felt 


248 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


dreadfully ill. Personally, he hardly believed he 
could last till morning. 

But he stuck to it pluckily, and by the light of 
an oil lamp the two worked desperately among the 
dust and ruins. 

At last the Professor threw up his hands. 

“It is useless,” he said sadly. “We can do 
nothing. Martin, I fear that this is the end.” 

He staggered suddenly, and Martin caught him 
as he sank down fainting on the stone fhmr. 

“He’s right. This is the end,” muttered Mar- 
tin bitterly. “ If I could only have paid off those 
creditors of father’s I shouldn’t have minded so 
much. It does seem hard luck, with all that gold 
waiting for me on the other island.” 

"Quite worn out, he dropped down beside the in- 
sensible body of the Professor. 

4 ‘ Boss ! Boss ! Marse Martin ! ’ ’ 

It was Scipio who came flying in from outside. 
His eyeballs were rolling horribly, and he was 
looking fearfully excited. 

“What is it?” asked Martin, getting up. 
“What’s the matter?” 

“Matter is dat de submarine’s came back,” 
shouted Scipio. 

Martin looked at him. 

“You’re crazy,” he said. 


IN THE NICK OF TIME 


249 


“ Crazy! I ain’t crazy. I swar to goodness I 
ain’t. It’s de trnfe I’m telling. De submarine’s 
back hyar in de harbor. I seed Cap’n Krieger 
standing up on her deck.” 

“But she was sunk years ago,” argued Martin. 

“Can’t help dat, sah. She’s floating all right 
dis berry minute. Yo’ come and see for yo’- 
self.” 

A thrill of excitement roused Martin. Seizing 
a lamp, he sprang up, and ran stumbling out of 
the place. And there, rising out of the dark, 
scummy water, was the long, narrow deck of a 
submarine surmounted by a conning tower. The 
hatch was open, and on the tower stood a square, 
burly-looking, clean-shaven man whom Martin 
recognized instantly from his photograph as the 
Professor’s old Danish friend and partner, Cap- 
tain Krieger. 

“What did I tell yo’, Marse Martin?” came 
Scipio’s triumphant voice from behind. 

Martin stood staring dazedly at Captain 
Krieger. He realized that Krieger was calling to 
Scipio, but could not hear what he said. Queer 
black specks danced before his eyes. Suddenly 
his knees folded up, all the strength went out of 
him, and he slipped quietly down on the dust- 
covered rock. 


250 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


“It seems like a miracle, Krieger. Even now 
I can hardly believe my senses.” 

The voice which came faintly to Martin’s ears 
was that of the Professor. Slowly the boy opened 
his eyes, and the first thing he knew was that he 
was lying in a comfortable bunk in a cabin, that 
the Professor was opposite in another bunk, and 
that close by sat Captain Krieger in a canvas 
chair. The place was lit by electric light, and 
by the low, deep hum of the electric motors Mar- 
tin knew they were under way traveling sub- 
merged. 

Martin himself felt very comfortable. All that 
horrid, rasping dryness was gone from his throat 
and mouth, but he was limp and drowsy, and dis- 
inclined to move. He lay quiet and listened. 

“It’s a long story, Distin,” answered Krieger. 
“I don’t wonder you thought the Saga was lost. 
As a matter of fact, she nearly was on more than 
one occasion. We were once in a minefield for 
twenty-four hours, and how we got out safely 
I hardly know to this day. But I reached Copen- 
hagen safely, and, finding that my country re- 
mained neutral, I went to England and offered 
my services. The Admiralty accepted me, and I 
fancy I did my part in helping to crush that wolf 
pack that was ravaging Europe.” 


IN THE NICK OF TIME 


251 


“But why did you not return as soon as the 
Armistice was signed?’ ’ inquired the Professor. 

‘ ‘ I had been ill. It was in an air raid. A bomb 
fell close to me, and though I was not much hurt 
the shock upset me completely. For the time I 
lost my memory altogether. It was only in March 
last that I recovered, and then I tried to get you 
by wireless, but could not hit your wave length. 
I returned to Denmark, but found the Saga in 
very bad condition, and it was most difficult to get 
repairs effected. Besides, to tell you the truth, 
I had not much money left. 

“It took months to get the work done, and 
even now she is none too seaworthy. It was all 
we could do to make the trip under the weed. ’ ’ 

“But you did it,” said the Professor gratefully. 
“You did it, and arrived in the very nick of time. 
Although the eruption was practically over, we 
could hardly have survived another twenty-four 
hours. We had finished our last drop of water.” 

“I am thankful indeed that we were in time,” 
replied the captain gravely. He paused. 

“This young Vaile,” he went on — “he seems to 
have done his best for you.” 

“He is one in a thousand,” declared the Pro- 
fessor. “The staunchest youngster I ever met. 
I love him as my own son.” 


252 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


Martin turned over. 

“Hullo a, Professor !” he said. 

Professor Distin sat up in his bunk. 

“My dear lad, how are you?” he asked. 

“First rate, thanks,” answered Martin. “I 
was an awful duffer to collapse like that.” 

“ H ’m ! ” grunted Krieger. ‘ ‘ I fancy most boys 
of your age would have collapsed a good deal 
earlier in the game. Mr. Vaile, I am extremely 
'pleased to meet you and to thank you for all you 
have done for my dear old friend here.” 

“I think the boot’s on the other foot, sir,” re- 
plied Martin blushing. “It’s the Professor who’s 
been good to me.” 

“A mutual admiration society,” said Captain 
Krieger, with a twinkle in his eye. “Suppose 
that we suspend compliments for the present, and 
devote ourselves to plans? I may as well tell you 
that I propose to make for America. It is closer 
than England, and an easier voyage for a battered 
old craft like this.” 

Martin sat up sharply. 

“But we must go to Lemuria first,” he 
said. 

Captain Krieger turned and looked at him in 
evident surprise. 

“Impossible, Mr. Vaile,” he answered. “We 


IN THE NICK OF TIME 253 

are already far under the weed. We could spare 
neither oxygen nor fuel to turn back. ,, 

Martin stared at Krieger and there was dismay 
in his face. 

“But the gold, ,, he said. 

“What gold!” 

“Hymer the priest and Akon had promised me 
all the gold I wanted,” groaned Martin. “Didn’t 
you tell him, Professor!” 

“I!” said the Professor. “I knew nothing of 
this.” 

“No, I forgot,” said Martin sadly. “In all the 
excitement of the eruption I forgot about it. But 
after Odan was killed and his rebellion crushed, 
the prince and Hymer said I could have all the 
gold I liked. You know what I wanted it for, 
Professor!” 

“Yes, to pay those creditors of your father’s — 
those people his partner, Morton Willard, 
swindled over that Cleansand settlement in 
Florida.” 

Captain Krieger looked from one to the other. 
He was frowning, and evidently much distressed. 

“I only wish I had known. Naturally, I kept 
clear of Lemuria, for I always looked upon her 
people as hostile. Now it is too late, for we are 
halfway to the open sea.” 


254 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


Martin was silent, but the look on his face 
showed how bitter was his disappointment. He 
had counted above all things upon getting that 
gold, and with it clearing his father’s name. Be- 
sides, now that Lost Island was destroyed, the 
Professor was left practically penniless, and Cap- 
tain Krieger too, as well as Scipio, would need to 
be provided for. 

“ Cannot we return asked the Professor. 
“ Cannot we rise outside the weed, replenish our 
air supply, and then dive again and go back to 
Lemuria?” 

“Impossible, Distin. We have barely enough 
oil to take us to the nearest port,” answered the 
captain. 

“What is the nearest port?” 

“Key West, the southernmost city of Florida.” 

“So you are going to Florida?” said Martin 
sadly. 

“There is no choice, my boy,” replied Captain 
Krieger. “We must make for the nearest point 
at which we can refill our tanks.” 

“And what then?” asked the Professor. 
“What shall we do next?” 

“Sell the old Saga for what she will fetch and 
make the best of our way back to Europe, I sup- 
pose,” replied Captain Krieger grimly. “That 


IN THE NICK OF TIME 255 

at least is all that I can suggest. To tell you the 
truth, Distin, I don’t think that you and I have 
a hundred pounds between us and the work- 
house.” 

“We will not despair, Krieger. It is true that 
matters seem serious. Still, our lives are safe, 
and I am convinced that in some way or other 
we shall find means of livelihood.” 


CHAPTER XXVIH 


MOBBED 

Mahtin stood upon the deck of the Saga as she 
plowed her way over the surface of a brilliantly 
blue sea, the small waves sparkling under a cloud- 
less sky. 

“So that’s Key West,” he said, gazing at the 
brightly painted houses which lined the flat shores 
of the bay. 

“The people have spotted us already,” he con- 
tinued. “I suppose they take us for one of their 
own naval craft. ’ 9 

“Yes. We had better show our colors,” said 
Captain Krieger. 

“Remember! Not a word about the island, 
Captain,” said Martin. 

“No need to remind me of that, Martin. In 
any case my papers show my port of departure 
as Copenhagen. There will be no trouble on that 
score.” 

Martin stared at the town a minute in silence. 
Then he turned again to Captain Krieger. 

“What are we going to do, sir?” he asked. 

256 


MOBBED 


257 


“ Raise some money, Martin. The only way to 
get back to Lemuria is by submarine or airship. 
An airship is out of the question, so our only 
chance is to get together cash enough to repair 
the poor old Saga and put her in proper order. 
Then we ’ll go back and help ourselves to the gold 
which your kind friend Hymer has offered us.” 

i 6 How much is it going to cost ? 9 9 asked Martin. 

“I think I can make her thoroughly seaworthy 
for a matter of five or six hundred pounds Eng- 
lish money, ’ 9 was the reply. 

Martin shook his head. “I don’t know where 
it’s to come from,” he said. “It’s no use going 
to any American with a story like ours. They 
simply wouldn’t believe it, and we haven’t a 
shadow of proof to offer.” 

“That’s true,” allowed the Captain. “All the 
same, when we get ashore I mean to hustle around 
and see what I can do.” 

They were in harbor in another hour. The 
American port authorities were very civil, and 
gave them a clean bill of health. Martin took 
the Professor ashore to the Magnolia Hotel. The 
old gentleman was far from well, and Martin 
wanted doctor’s advice for him. 

Martin registered in the hotel book, giving his 
owjl name and that of the Professor. It did not 


258 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


occur to him to do anything else. Then he went 
out and found a doctor and brought him back to 
see the Professor. 

As he came through the hall of the hotel a keen- 
faced American stepped towards him. 

“You Mr. Yaile?” he asked. 

“That’s my name,” replied Martin, rather sur- 
prised. 

“My name’s Ladd. I’m from the Key West 
‘Argus.’ I’d like a word with you.” 

“In a minute,” replied Martin. “I must take 
the doctor up first.” 

The other nodded. “I’ll be right here,” he 
said. 

Martin left the doctor to overhaul the Pro- 
fessor, and went down again. 

“Say,” remarked Mr. Ladd, drawing Martin 
aside. “You any relation of Mr. Yaile of Willard 
and Yaile?” 

Martin started slightly. It had not occurred to 
him that he would be connected with the Clean- 
sand business. But he was not going to deny it. 

“Iam Mr. Yaile ’s son,” he answered quietly. 

The other gave a low whistle. 

“Say, but you’ve got a cheek to come here to 
Florida!” 

Martin drew himself up. 


MOBBED 


259 


“ Let me tell you this, Mr. Ladd,” he said curtly 
— “my father was perfectly innocent. He had no 
knowledge whatever of that cruel and abominable 
swindle. The whole thing was worked by his part- 
ner, Willard, who took all the money and threw 
the guilt on my father.” 

Ladd shrugged his shoulders. 

“You got any proof of that?” he asked. 

“No; but I mean to get it,” answered Martin 
sternly. ‘ ‘ That ’s what I ’m here for. ’ * 

“It’ll take some getting,” said Ladd dryly. He 
paused and looked at Martin. 

“See here, young fellow,” he said. “I’ve no 
doubt you believe what you’ve told me. All the 
same, you take a tip from me, and clear right out 
of this State quick as ever you can. There’s three 
hundred families lost near all they had through 
that Cleansand swindle, and just as soon as they 
hear your name a lot of ’em will be out gunning 
for you.” 

Martin gasped as if someone had thrown a 
bucket of cold water over him. It was not fear 
for himself. That was the last thing he thought 
of. The horror of it was to feel that three hun- 
dred families — more than a thousand people — 
ruined by this Cleansand swindle all believed that 
his father was guilty of their ruin. 


260 MARTIN CRUSOE 

“ Makes you feel a bit sick, eh?” remarked 
Ladd, who was watching Martin keenly. 

Martin drew a long breath. 

“It’s awful,” he said slowly. “But if you had 
known my father as I do, you would have been as 
certain as I am that he never had anything to 
do with this horrible business.” 

The other nodded. “I like to see a chap stand 
up for his dad,” he said. “Say, now, is it a fact 
that you gave up all that was left you to your 
father’s creditors?” 

“Of course I did!” returned Martin indig- 
nantly. “And if you know anyone who has lost 
his money at Cleansand Bay, why you can just 
tell him I mean to pay back every penny.” 

Ladd stared at Martin. 

“You’ll need a heap of money,” he said dryly. 

“And I’ll get a heap of money!” retorted 
Martin. “I could get it in a month if ” 

He pulled himself up short. 

“No, I can’t tell you how,” he said. “And you 
wouldn’t believe me if I did. But I’ll get it and 
I’ll pay them, then I’ll settle accounts with Morton 
Willard.” 

“You’ve got to find him first,” said Ladd. 
“Well, like your spirit, sonny, and if there’s any- 
thing I can do you call me up at the ‘Argus’ office. 


MOBBED 


261 


Here’s my card. All the same, if I were you, I’d 
quit this State right off. It’s not going to be a 
health resort for anyone named Vaile.” 

He nodded and strolled off, and just then the 
doctor, whose name was Curtis, came down. He 
and Martin went into the sitting-room, which was 
empty at the moment, and Martin asked Dr. 
Curtis what he thought of the Professor. 

“Nothing wrong with him except old age, Mr. 
Vaile,” was the answer. “But he’s a little old 
for traveling around in a submarine, as I under- 
stood he’s been doing. What he wants now is a 
few days in bed, plenty of sleep and good nourish- 
ing food. But he’ll need a bit of looking after. 
Shall I send in a nurse?” 

“No need for that,” Martin answered. “His 
colored man will look after him.” 

“All right,” said Dr. Curtis. “I guess I won’t 
need to see him again unless you send for me.” 

Martin thanked him, paid his fee, and went 
back to the submarine to fetch Scipio. On the 
way it seemed to him that several people looked 
at him oddly. He felt hot and uncomfortable. 
For the first time in his life he was ashamed. 

Captain Krieger arrived back at the dock just 
as Martin reached it. He was looking tired and 
dejected. 


262 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


“Not a dollar to be got anywhere, Martin,’ ’ he 
said. “I was counting on a rich cigar manu- 
facturer I know, a man called Stuyvesant. But 
he’s in New York, and won’t be back for a month 
or more. No one else will look at any security I 
have to offer. I tried to borrow money on the 
Saga herself, but now the war is over no one 
wants a submarine.” 

He glanced at Martin. 

“You’re looking a bit down, too, lad,” he said. 
“What’s wrong?” 

Martin told him. 

“You’d have done better to register under an- 
other name,” said Krieger gravely. “This will 
make things all the more difficult for us, and sure 
as fate that reporter will write up a story about 
you in his paper. Then all the town will know, 
and there will be the mischief to pay. Now, I 
think you had better take Scipio up to the hotel, 
then come back here to supper, and we will have a 
talk.” 

Martin agreed, and he and Scipio went back 
together to the Magnolia. As they went they saw 
bare-footed colored boys selling the evening paper 
in the streets, and by the rapidity with which the 
copies were being snapped up it was clear that 
there was news of more than common interest. 


MOBBED 263 

Even so Martin was not prepared for what was 
going to happen. 

When he reached the hotel, the proprietor met 
him. 

“Pm sorry, Mr. Vaile,” he said, “but I’ll have 
to ask you to leave my hotel. You see, they all 
know who you are now, and it’s only asking for 
trouble for you to stay here in my place.” 

Martin went rather white. 

“Very well,” he said, with dignity. “I will 
leave at once. All I ask is that you will take good 
care of Professor Distin. He at least is no rela- 
tion of mine or of my father.” 

The proprietor assured him that the Professor 
would be all right, and Martin, after a word or 
two with Scipio, went out again and walked 
quickly back towards the wharf. 

Now there was no doubt about his being recog- 
nized. He saw people pointing at him. 

“That’s him!” a boy shouted. “That’s the son 
o’ the swindler.” 

Martin saw that he was being followed, but he 
would not run. It would seem as if he was guilty. 
He did not like the look of things, and so he 
walked as quickly as he could. 

There are no stones in Florida, but some heavy 
object came whizzing past his head. 


264 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


“Are you chaps going to stand for this?” came 
a loud, harsh voice. “Are you going to let this 
swindler’s brat walk around your town like he 
owned it ? Get hold of him. Teach him you won’t 
have his sort around. Chuck him in the harbor.” 

There was a shout, a rush of feet. Martin 
began to run, but it was too late. They were all 
around him — as rough a looking gang of wharf 
rats as ever he had seen, and led by a tall, swarthy 
Cuban. He was the man who had called on them 
to fling Martin off the wharf. 

Something about him seemed vaguely familiar 
to Martin, but there was no time to think. Martin 
knew that he was in real danger. Seeing he could 
not escape, he sprang to one side, got his back 
against the wall of a warehouse, and turned to 
bay. He had not even a stick — nothing but his 
fists. How he wished he had Akon or Hymer be- 
side him ! 

A bullet-headed mulatto, with an ugly, scarred 
face, made a rush at him. Martin hit him under 
the jaw, and sent him staggering back against the 
next man. Both went down together. 

The other paused an instant, and Martin leaped 
forward and drove his fist into the face of a third. 
But at that moment another got behind him and 
kicked his legs from under him. He went down in 
the dust with the whole pack on top of him. 


CHAPTER XXIX 


THE RESCUE 

The last thing Martin heard as he went down be- 
neath the gang was the shrill blast of a whistle. 
Then he was fighting for dear life, trying to hold 
off a pair of horny hands which clutched at his 
throat. 

The very number of attackers was in his favor. 
The men fell over each other, and got in one an- 
other’s way. 

“Get up, you fools!” snarled the voice of the 
tall Cuban. “Out of my way. Let me get at 
him!” 

Martin, half-stunned and breathless, saw the 
tall figure loom above him, caught the dull glint 
of a knife blade, and knew that worse than a duck- 
ing threatened him. With a last frantic effort he 
writhed aside, and, seizing the nearest body, 
pulled it down on top of him. 

The Cuban snarled like an angry dog, and, 
catching hold of the man whom Martin held, tried 
to tear him from his grasp. 

A loud shout came from somewhere at the quay 


265 


266 MARTIN CRUSOE 

end of the alley. There was a sound of running 
feet. 

“Beat it!” yelled one of the gang. “The 
cops ! ’ ’ 

Like a flash the gang melted away, all but the 
man whom Martin held and the tall Cuban, who 
still struggled frantically to drag him away. 

“Is that you, Martin?” came Captain Krieger’s 
anxious voice, and at the sound the Cuban let go 
and turned to fly. 

Quick as thought, Martin stretched out one arm 
and caught him by the ankle. He tripped and 
came down, thud, upon the sand, and Martin, hurl- 
ing aside the man who was on top of him, sprang 
up and flung himself upon the leader of the gang. 

At that very moment Captain Krieger, with 
three other men, came tearing up. 

“This is the man,” panted Martin breathlessly. 
“Hold him ! Don’t let him go ! He’s the one who 
set them on me.” 

“Let me go!” gasped the Cuban. “You’re not 
police. You’ve no right to hold me.” 

“If we ain’t got the right we’ve got the might,” 
came the dry voice of Mr. Ladd. ‘ ‘ Say, Captain, ’ ’ 
he added, “here’s a bit o’ cord. Tie his thumbs 
behind his back. That’s the way to fix vermin of 
his sort.” 


THE RESCUE 267 

11 Are you hurt, Martin?” asked Captain 
Krieger anxiously. 

‘‘Nothing to signify,” Martin assured him, 
“hut that long chap would have knifed me if you 
hadn’t come when you did. How did you get on 
my track?” 

“It was Mr. Ladd here. Seems he was watch- 
ing you. He ran down to the wharf and called us.” 

“I’m very grateful to you, Mr. Ladd,” said 
Martin frankly. 

“You don’t need to be,” laughed the other. “I 
reckon I’m going to get a story for my paper 
that’ll pay me for my bit of trouble. But, see 
here, Mr. Vaile, this here Cuban ain’t one of the 
chaps that got stuck over the Cleansand Bay busi- 
ness. They were all white men. Who is he, any- 
way?” 

‘ ‘ Just what I ’m wondering, ’ ’ said Martin. ‘ ‘ To 
tell you the truth, I thought I recognized his voice. 
Bring him into the light and I’ll soon see if I 
know his face.” 

At the end of the alley they came out upon the 
wharf, where electric lamps were now alight. In 
spite of his resistance, they hauled the man 
roughly under the nearest lamp. 

“Now then, Mr. Vaile,” said Ladd, “who is 
he?” 


268 MARTIN CRUSOE 

Martin stared at the fellow a moment. His 
eyes widened with amazement. 

“Why — why,” he gasped, in utter astonish- 
ment, “it’s Morton Willard!” 

“Your late father’s partner?” snapped Ladd. 

“That’s who it is,” declared Martin. “He’s 
darkened his face, hut I’d know him anywhere.” 

He turned on Willard. 

“You blackguard!” he cried hotly. “So, hav- 
ing got rid of my father, you thought you’d kill 
me and go free ! ’ ’ 

“You are wrong,” answered Willard, who was 
glancing this way and that, like a trapped rat. 
“It wasn’t my fault. I had nothing to do with 
it. Let me go!” 

“A likely story,” said Ladd dryly. “See here, 
Vaile, this is going to be mightily interesting. 
Now, what do you reckon to do about it? Of 
course, you can hand Willard here over to the 
police, if you’ve a mind to, and charge him with 
assaulting you, but I wouldn’t do that.” 

“What would you do?” asked Martin. 

“Take him along to that craft of yours and keep 
him,” replied Ladd significantly. “Maybe he’ll 
talk then.” 

“I won’t! You shall not do it! You have no 
right!” cried Willard fiercely. 


THE RESCUE 


269 


Captain Krieger chuckled grimly. 

‘ 4 You're right, Mr. Ladd. The Saga is a better 
prison than any lock-up in this town. Bring him 
along, men.” 

In spite of his struggles, Willard was rushed! 
over the edge of the wharf, down the steps, and 
two minutes later was safely lodged in the body 
of the submarine. 

Ladd saw him fastened up, then turned to the 
others. 

‘ ‘ Good night, 9 ’ he said. “ You ’ve done a mighty 
good stroke of work this evening. Now, see here. 
I’m going to busy myself getting evidence against 
this galoot, but I’ll be round again some time to- 
morrow.” 

He was turning to go when Willard spoke again. 

“Stop!” he said hoarsely. “Wait a minute! 
There are things I can tell you!” 

“I guessed he’d weaken,” said Ladd scornfully. 
“Wal, out with it, Willard!” 

“No, not if you are going to prosecute. Unless 
I have your promise that you won’t prosecute, I 
will not say a word.” 

“That’s a mighty queer bargain,” replied Ladd 
in his driest tone. “How’s Mr. Yaile here to know 
you’ve got anything to tell that’s worth his while 
to hear?” 


270 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


Willard’s sallow face worked nervously. Black- 
guard as lie was, there was precious little pluck in 
his make-up. 

* ‘It’s well worth his hearing,’ ’ he insisted. 
“He’d give anything to hear it.” 

“I can’t imagine anything you have to say be- 
ing worth hearing, ’ ’ said Martin in disgust. 

“It’s about your father,” Willard said. 

“My father is dead,” answered Martin curtly. 

Willard’s narrow eyes were fixed on Martin. 

“How do you know he is dead?” he asked. 

Martin started. 

“You wired me yourself,” he snapped. 

Willard paused. There was an ugly smile on 
his thin lips. 

“Supposing,” he said slowly — “supposing I 
told you that he was not dead at all?” 

Martin stared at the man. For a moment he 
could not speak. The shock was so great it left 
him breathless. 

Ladd was the first to find his voice. 

“Are you meaning to tell us that Mr. Vaile is 
still alive?” he demanded. 

“I said he might be,” snarled the other, “but 
I’ll not tell you another thing unless I have your 
word you won’t prosecute.” 

“Promise him anything if he’ll tell,” cried 


THE RESCUE 271 

Martin. “I’d give all I have on earth to know 
that my father was alive and well.” 

“Go slow,” advised Ladd. “Just remember 
that if you refuse to prosecute this galoot, your 
father’s liable to be arrested if he is alive. It’s 
like this. While none of us here doubt that Wil- 
lard and not your father was responsible for the 
Cleansand swindle, other folk won’t think the 
same.” 

“I can’t help that,” said Martin doggedly. 
“I’d give anything to find my father alive.” 

Ladd shrugged his shoulders. 

“Just as you like, Yaile. It’s your picnic, not 
mine. And one way or another, it will make just 
as good news for my paper.” 

He turned to Willard. 

“You’re safe from me,” he said, “so far as 
the law goes, but that don’t alter my opinion that 
you’re the dirtiest skunk that ever walked on two 
legs. Now, then, out with it. Is Mr. Yaile alive, 
and, if so, where is he?” 

“ He is alive, ’ ’ answered Willard. 1 1 But he ’s in 
a place that you can’t get to unless I tell you 
where it is.” 

Martin’s face lit up. 

“Father alive! Then I shall see him again,” 
he said hoarsely. 


272 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


Captain Krieger cut in. Of course Martin had 
long ago told him the whole story. 

“Then you will take us to him, Mr. Morton Wil- 
lard,’ ’ he said sternly. “At once, too. And if 
you don’t, I’ll promise you this— that even if you 
are not handed over to the law, as you richly de- 
serve to he, I, personally, will give you such a 
thrashing that you will he sorry you were not in 
prison.” 

The iron determination in his tone cowed Wil- 
lard completely. 

“I will take you there,” he said sullenly, “hut 
when I have done that, I have your promise that I 
am to go free?” 

“You have it,” said Martin curtly. “We will 
start in the morning.” 


CHAPTER XXX 


IN THE HEART OF THE GLADES 

Fouk people paddled a large canoe up a narrow 
waterway fringed on either side with tall gray 
saw-grass. The water, smooth as glass, reflected 
the crimson rays of a blazing sunset. Overhead 
a flight of snowy flamingoes winged their way, 
while big fish rose with heavy plopping splashes. 

“It’s mighty hot,” remarked one of the pad- 
dlers. It was Mr. Ladd. He stopped paddling, 
mopped his forehead and rolled himself a ciga- 
rette. “ Guess we’ve earned a stand easy,” he 
said. 

Martin, whose face and arms were burnt to the 
color of an old saddle, looked at Willard, who was 
sitting sullenly in the stern of the canoe. 

“How far have we to go?” he demanded. 

Willard pointed to a clump of tall palms which 
'were just visible across the desert of swamp and 
saw-grass which made up the Florida Everglades. 
“That’s the island,” he said. 

Ladd dropped his cigarette as if it had been a 
hot coal, and snatched up his paddle. 

273 


274 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


“That’s Manatee Island, is it? Great snakes, 
why didn’t you say so before?” 

“No one asked me,” answered ‘Willard sulkily. 

The look Ladd gave him was not a pleasant one, 
but he did not speak again. He dipped his paddle 
deep, and, as the other three followed suit, the 
canoe went away as if she had an engine in her, 
leaving a boiling wake behind. 

The clump of palms rose quickly into sight, the 
saw-grass opened, and showed a wide lagoon 
with an island about a mile across lying in its 
center. 

Martin could hardly breathe for excitement. 
This was Manatee Island, the lonely scrap of land 
deep in the heart of the great Everglades, in 
which, according to Willard, Martin’s father had 
been left a prisoner in the hands of a band of 
Seminole Indians. 

If he were still alive he and his son would meet 
within another five minutes. 

Ladd stopped paddling again and stared to- 
wards the island, shading his eyes with his hand 
from the glare of the setting sun. 

“Say, Vaile,” he remarked, “there’s a bunch of 
Indians down by the landing. But I see no white 
man among ’em.” 

The Seminoles of the Everglades are a poor and 


IN THE HEART OF THE GLADES 275 

rather cowardly lot who live by fishing. On Mana- 
tee Island there were only about twenty all told, 
and, so far from offering any resistance, they 
crowded round the canoe, begging for tobacco and 
cartridges. 

Ladd knew how to talk to them. Martin stood 
by, positively shaking with anxiety as the Ameri- 
can ordered them to produce their prisoner. 

The chief, a long-haired person who looked as 
if he had never washed in his life, but who was 
called by the high-sounding name of Tigertail, 
looked doubtful. 

“What you give me if I bring you white man?” 
he asked. 

“I’ll give you the worst hammering you ever 
had in your life if you don’t take us to him double 
quick,” retorted Ladd; and his hand went to his 
pistol pocket. 

Tigertail took the hint. 

“All right. You come this way,” he answered 
sulkily. 

He led the way back from the beach by a nar- 
row path overhung by enormous live oaks. Great 
trails of Spanish moss hung from the branches, 
cutting off the light so that it was almost dark 
beneath. The ground was wet and swampy, and 
had a sour, unpleasant smell. 


276 MARTIN CRUSOE 

They came out into an open space where one of 
those strange old shell mounds rose among the 
trees. Here were some rough huts in which the 
Indians lived. Tigertail led them to one of 
these. 

“Him white man live here,” he grunted. 

Martin dashed forward, and flung aside the cur- 
tain of skins which covered the door. 

A man rose from an old packing-case. He was 
dressed in rags. His hair was quite white, and so 
was his untrimmed beard. He stood staring at 
Martin, as though he saw a ghost. 

“You, Martin!” he gasped. 

“Dad!” cried Martin, grasping both his 
father ’s hands. ‘ ‘ Oh, Dad ! What have they done 
to you?” 

Mr. Yaile recovered a little. 

“Martin, is it really you? But I knew you 
would find me.” 

“It’s a miracle I ever did, Dad. That black- 
guard Willard wired me that you were dead.” 

“I thought as much,” returned Mr. Vaile 
grimly. “Yet I always felt that you would come 
in search of me. It was only that which kept me 
going at all. Where is Willard?” 

“Outside with Captain Krieger and Mr. Ladd. 
But I forgot, you don’t even know who they are, 


IN THE HEART OF THE GLADES 277 

and there’s no time to tell yon now. What we’ve 
got to do is to get you away from this beastly 
place just as quickly as ever we can.” 

“ I can assure you I am quite ready to go,” an- 
swered his father, with the ghost of a smile. 

Martin put his strong young arm round his 
father, and led him out. 

“Here he is!” he announced joyfully. “This 
is Captain Krieger, father, and here is Mr. Ladd. 
I owe a lot to both of them.” 

Martin saw, by their faces, how shocked they 
were at the appearance of Mr. Yaile. And he him- 
self, seeing now in a stronger light the wreck of 
the fine man that his father had been only a few 
months ago, felt his blood boil. 

He swung round on Willard. 

“This is your doing, you blackguard!” he said 
fiercely. 

Ladd wisely interrupted. 

“We promised not to prosecute, sonny,” he re- 
marked mildly. “That was as far as our under- 
taking went, as I remember. But, see here, there 
ain’t reason why we shouldn’t leave him right 
here where he’s left Mr. Yaile all this time 

“Hi, stop him!” he broke off, and sprang for- 
ward; for Willard, with a sudden howl of terror, 
had turned and bolted out of the glade, and Ladd, 


278 MARTIN CRUSOE 

quick as he was, was not quite quick enough to 
catch him. 

“ After him!” shouted Ladd. ‘ 4 He’s making 
for the boat. If he reaches it first he ’ll get away. ’ 9 

His words were cut short by a scream. There 
was the sound of a heavy fall. 

Ladd and Martin, racing forward, almost fell 
over Willard, who lay in the path writhing in 
agony. 

“Pm snake-bit,” he groaned. “A rattler got 
me.” 


CHAPTER XXXI 


THE CONFESSION 

However much you may hate or despise a man, 
you forget all that when he is snake-bitten. 

Martin dropped down on his knees beside the 
wretched Willard. 

“Where?” he asked quickly. 

“My right leg, just above the ankle,” groaned 
Willard. 

Martin had the trouser leg rolled up in a 
twinkling, and the sock turned down. Sure 
enough, there were two small punctures about half 
an inch apart. They were red and angry, and the 
flesh around the marks were already beginning to 
puff. 

Martin snatched out a handkerchief, tied it 
round the leg just above the bite, and, picking up 
a short piece of stick, began twisting the bandage 
as tightly as he could. 

“That’s right, sonny,” said Ladd. “Say, I’ve 
got a syringe with permanganate in my pocket. 
W ait a j iffy. I ’ll fix him. ” 

As he spoke he took the hypodermic syringe out 

279 


280 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


of its case, then, pushing the point well under the 
skin of Willard’s calf, injected a good dose of its 
contents. 

They carried him into one of the huts, and there 
he lay in a heap, almost insensible. 

“It’s fright,” - whispered Ladd to Martin. 
“He’s plumb scared. I’ve known chaps to die of 
fright, and it looks to me like this galoot was 
going to do it. Myself, I don’t believe it was a 
rattler at all, but just a moccasin. A moccasin’s 
bad enough, but not near so bad as a rattler. ’ ’ 

It looked as if Ladd was right. Willard was so 
terrified that he made no sort of fight for life. 
He collapsed like a pricked bladder. 

Two hours passed. Night had fallen, but a big 
fire blazed outside the hut. The party had cooked 
their supper and were eating it when Ladd, who 
had been watching Willard, came out. 

“Say, Martin, I reckon Willard’s going. But 
he ’s sensible and reckons he wants to make a con- 
fession. He’s told me enough to clear your Dad, 
and I’ve written it down. I reckon, if he signs it 
and Captain Krieger here witnesses it, the job’s 
as good as done.” 

Martin sprang to his feet. 

“If he clears Dad, I’ll forgive him everything,” 
he declared. 


THE CONFESSION 


281 


1 1 And so will I,” said Mr. Vaile. ‘ 4 Indeed, I 
can find in my heart to be sorry for the wretched 
man. This is a terrible way in which to die. Go 
in, Krieger, and witness his confession.” 

Someone came up through the narrow hatch of 
the Saga, and Martin, who was standing on the 
deck, fishing for mullet, looked round. 

His eyes widened. 

4 ‘Great scott! Is that you, Dad? Upon my 
word, I’d never have known you.” 

Mr. Vaile, clean shaven, with his hair cut and 
dressed in neat white drill, was a different figure 
from the worn, white-haired man whom they 
had brought in on the previous night that even 
his son might be excused for not recognizing 
him. 

He smiled. 

“I feel better,” he said. “ Where’s Ladd?” 

Martin winked. 

“I’m not to tell you. As a matter of fact, I 
don’t know. All that I know is that he took Wil- 
lard off somewhere this morning, and when he 
comes back Willard won’t be with him.” 

“I am glad,” said Mr. Vaile gravely. “Since 
'Willard has handed over the money he stole to be 
restored to his victims, I would not have him in 
prison. It is amazing how quickly he recovered, 


282 


MARTIN CRUSOE 


once he had got that confession off his mind. He 
will have a chance now of starting again, and 
after the lesson he has had I think he will be a 
better man.” 

“I hope so, too, Dad. But what about us? 
Seems to me we are rather at a loose end. We 
haven’t more than enough between us to pay the 
Professor’s hotel and doctor’s bill.” 

“We must not complain,” replied his father. 
“We are together again. Somehow we shall find 
means of repairing this vessel, and getting back 
to Lemuria.” 

Martin shrugged his shoulders, then laughed. 

“Yes, luck’s been good to us so far. Must 
have been those lucky stones Akon gave me, and 
which, by the way, I’ve never looked at from that 
day to this. 

“Wait,” he added. “I’ll go and fetch them. 
Perhaps, if we put them out in the light, they’ll 
bring us fresh fortune.” 

Slipping through the hatch, he dropped down 
the ladder, to return in a few minutes with the 
little leathern bag which Prince Akon had given 
him. 

“Here they are,” he said. 

Mr. Yaile took the bag, opened it and turned 
the contents into his open hand. 


THE CONFESSION 


283 


He gave a gasp of astonishment. 

* ‘ Luck stones ! 9 9 he exclaimed. 1 1 Good Heavens, 
Martin, look at them!” 

Martin looked, and his eyes fairly goggled. 

“They’re pearls!” he exclaimed hoarsely. 

“Pearls,” repeated his father — “pearls, and 
the finest I ever set eyes upon. Twenty — twenty- 
five — there are thirty-three of them, and the 
smallest worth at least two thousand dollars!” 

For a moment the two stood silent, staring at 
the beautiful gems which gleamed softly in the 
morning sunlight. 

Suddenly Martin laughed. 

“The luck holds,” he said. “The luck holds. 
Now I shall be able to do what I have always 
wanted to do — take you and the Professor to 
Lemuria and introduce you to Akon and Hymer. 
Dad, it’s going to be the jolliest holiday you ever 
had in your life. ’ ’ 






























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